Everything is Connected
by wolfdragonful
Summary: Charlie's missing. Has been for two months. Don and the team are on a fugitive case and have called Ian in. Meanwhile, Charlie is struggling to remember who he is.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

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Don Eppes sighed as he stared at the picture of his little brother on his desk. He was beginning to really miss his brother's rambling lectures. He felt a shiver race down his spine as his thoughts flooded back to the day two months ago when things had been normal.

Dinner with Nikki, Liz, David, Colby, Larry, Amita, Charlie, and his father Alan had been going well until Charlie got a call from someone. Phone records showed it had been a colleague who was well known at CalSci for his work in some field or another. The conversation had sounded important from what Don could hear. Charlie was animated as always and had sounded eager to go and kick some math into high gear for kicks.

Larry was serving his homemade ice cream when Charlie said he had to go. Amita offered to go with him but he insisted she stay and enjoy herself. As Don thought about it, he was once again surprised that the two hadn't gotten married. Amita apparently had been the one to leave Charlie at the altar but they seemed able to fall into their usual partnership. It was like romance just could not happen between them when things were calm. She had really tried to insist that she could probably help but Charlie had been adamant. He wanted to do this on his own.

He left promising he'd been back soon. He never did come back.

The first twenty-four hours had been Don's usual critical time window. He had kicked and screamed for the higher ups to let him handle the case and he had been surprised when they agreed. He'd worked every angle he could afford to think of finding absolutely nothing. Phone records had only led him to the colleague who had explained why he'd called Charlie. Don had sent search parties out to go over Charlie's usual routes only to learn they'd found nothing.

Nothing but Charlie's empty car.

The car had been abandoned with no sign of struggle anywhere on it. Absolutely nothing at all. There were no leads but the higher ups had all made it very clear; Charles Eppes was not just a consultant. He was one of their best assets. They wanted their asset back and they wanted him back _now_. However, Don had noticed something far more primal as he worked on the case until he really couldn't put any more time into it.

Charlie wasn't an asset to the people who helped try to find him. He was one of them. He was a brother in arms whose weapon was a shroud of protection and good luck. He watched as the men and women who still checked into the case every time they could began to look disappointed in themselves for not being able to find anything new. Without leads, the case would stay at the dead end it had rooted itself to. No leads meant that there would be no head way.

Missing posters with Charlie's picture were hung up in almost every cubicle in the bullpen to Don's amazement. He hadn't noticed how many people in the Bureau knew and liked Charlie. He wanted to thank them for looking for his little brother but he couldn't help but feel like if he did he'd jinx their already dismal chances.

He sighed as his thoughts turned dreary once more and he trudged away to the conference room to stare at the scattered files again. He wanted to know what was happening to his brother but at the same time, he wanted to avoid knowing at all costs. He couldn't stand the fact that he'd lost his little brother so easily. What had happened to his typical overprotection? Why hadn't he insisted that he take Charlie to see his friend? Why hadn't he done something? If he had done something, would Charlie still have been taken or would he have been able to stop the abduction? So many questions rolled about in his mind and he couldn't help but want to tear his hair out in frustration. He hadn't even noticed that he'd scattered the files to intentionally make it look like Charlie was still there.

He yanked his thoughts from the picture to look at the recent case he had been given. Life still seemed to go on without Charlie and it disappointed him that it did. He didn't feel like there was a reason for the world to keep turning until Charlie was home safe again. He had to know his brother was safe before he felt things were alright.

His father was slightly catatonic; he simply wandered through the house, tearing up when he saw something that reminded him of Charlie. Amita had buried herself in work; work that was going absolutely nowhere. Millie and Larry were trying hard to keep them both in reality when they too were suffering. Larry lost someone he could speak to and Millie lost someone who was very close to her in many ways – donation drives and a great intuitive mind she could challenge as a superior. She'd been forced to get Marshall Penfield to sub for Charlie until further notice and according to her, Penfield was doing well enough but Charlie was a better professor. Penfield was also trying to do what he could to help but he just didn't have the same respect Charlie had. Don's team seemed stuck in any case they got thanks to their lucky charm being gone completely. The next thing Don had noticed, he was neck deep in cases he couldn't get a grip on.

The one he was working on presently was one of a fugitive prisoner who'd managed to escape during a move to the jail. Don had called in Ian Edgerton just to have fresh eyes on at least one case and the sniper had yet to arrive. His fingers skimmed over reports that told of the guards' point of view of what had happened, eye witness accounts, and what security cameras had caught. None of it was leading him anywhere though. He would have had Charlie on figuring if the car crash had been intentional or something. Nothing was getting done because they had been forced to figure things out the traditional way.

A soft knock on the door of the conference room caught his attention and he looked up from his papers to find Ian Edgerton smiling at him in a friendly manner. He stood to shake the sniper's hand and welcomed him as enthusiastically as he could. His mind was still on Charlie. Nothing he did could pull him away from his thoughts and worries for his brother.

"Sorry for the mess," he said not really bothering to try to listen to how he sounded. Ian however noticed the weary sounding worry in his voice but kept his mouth shut. He was sure he'd figure it out sooner or later and was far more worried with how sick Don looked. It was like he hadn't gotten any sleep or food in a few months and it was really showing.

"No problem," Ian replied as he gazed over the clutter of papers and files. He couldn't make heads or tails of it and had a feeling Charlie had been allowed to ransack them to make his equations as usual. "I really don't mind. What have you got on the Cornel case?"

Don looked at him as if the name meant absolutely nothing to him. Ian waited as Don seemed to filter through his mind and watched as confusion turned into realization. The looks on Don's face alone were enough to make Ian worried. It wasn't like Don to simply forget who he was chasing. Not when Don had training in fugitive recovery before working in the LA branch of the FBI. Ian watched as Don seemed to shake himself back to reality and nodded as if to reassure himself that things were alright when they apparently weren't.

"Not much," Don said somewhat stiffly. "I don't have…much."

Ian's eyes narrowed but he nodded anyway. Something didn't sound right to him but again, he wasn't going to say anything until he was sure. He breathed through his nose calmly and sighed resolutely; watching Don the entire time while making sure he looked like the poster boy of calm and level headed thinking.

"Alright," he replied. "Let's go over the files together and see if I can help."

Don nodded and handed Ian some of the files. Both men sat down and searched through the images of the crime scene and through the witness reports. Ian found himself done faster than he'd expected and his gaze fell back on Don. He was completely out of it. He wasn't paying attention, his eyes only flitting over the papers. Ian shifted in his seat uncomfortably. This wasn't the Don Eppes he knew. What the hell was going on?

"Hey Don," Colby sighed as he entered the room, David and Liz following him in shambling steps. All three looked dead tired as if they hadn't slept last night. Ian waved at them, not bothering to try to smile. "Hey Ian," Colby added once his eyes focused on Ian. It took longer than it should have.

_So it's not just Don huh_, Ian thought. _This seems like it's getting serious._

Liz and David flopped into chairs as Colby threw his jacket onto the back of another. He settled a bit more gracefully than the other two but his head sank to the table, cushioned by his folded arms. He groaned softly as he rolled his shoulders. Ian couldn't help but stare at them all. He didn't understand what was going on but it was apparent that he had to learn soon.

Nikki entered soon after, her eyes not focusing on anything or anyone. She simply let herself fall into a chair near David and robotically reached for files to pass to Liz and the other two males. Don didn't even bother looking up, his eyes showing he was lost in another world. Ian watched as they all just stared at the papers without seeing anything on them. No wonder they had nothing. They weren't paying attention to anything but what was in their heads. That was dangerous enough but from what Ian understood from the files was that Cornel was a nut and was also a nut who liked guns – powerful ones.

"I'm going to get coffee," Ian declared suddenly causing the others to jump. "Anybody want some?" He watched their eyes as they glazed over and they all shook their heads.

_Right. They all need a boost of some kind_, he thought sarcastically as he stood to leave. He didn't really want coffee. He wanted an escape. The fact no one else wanted the bitter drink made it easier for him to simply wander about without any destination in mind. _What the hell is wrong with them? Did this guy shoot one of theirs and it's not in the reports yet? Man, I can't wait to see if Charlie has any-. _His thoughts cut off as he nearly passed Don's desk. He couldn't believe his eyes. Was he really seeing what he thought he was? He snatched the paper that had caught his eye and stormed back to the conference room.

"What the hell is this?" he bellowed as he reentered the conference room, the paper in hand. He slammed it down before Don and glared icicles at the agent. "What the fuck is that Don?"

Don stared at the image on the paper before shoving it away as if it were about to bite him. "None of your business Edgerton. You're here for this case." He waved at the clutter again and stood to leave. "I'm getting something to drink. Keep working everyone."

There were a few blank nods but Ian had seen them all snap to attention when he'd yelled at Don. He'd felt their eyes boring holes into both him and Don as he bellowed at the agent. Once Don left, he snatched the picture up again and shoved it their faces without moving.

"What the hell have I missed?" he hissed softly, his tone poisonous. They all flinched, their eyes no longer tired and blank. They all seemed unable to speak though and he snarled in an animalistic way as he slammed the picture down again. "Fine, don't tell me! It's not like he's a friends of mine like he is for you!" He stormed out of the room and punched the elevator call button as if he was pounding a nail home. As soon as the doors chimed open, he was inside the car and was attacking the button for the first floor.

His eyes moved up in time to see Don watching him, sadness and grief painting his face, as the doors slid closed.

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**Please review. Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

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"Breakfast!" a deep alto voice chimed up the stairs of a small house.

The wood halls echoed loudly as her voice sailed through them. However, her call was met by the soft sounds of pencil or pen against paper. She listened as the hum of writing paused every so often to be replaced by tapping sounds like a pen against the top of a desk. She could hear a soft sigh of frustration and she called once more. This time, she was met with the sounds of chairs scraping against wood flooring and padded footfalls as her two housemates made their way to her. She smiled softly as she heard the two run into each other and blather apologies. One went into the restroom and the other came down the steps.

"Sorry Mom," a soprano voice said, her voice sounding clipped. "This though process of mine is driving me crazy! I can't get it to work with me no matter what angle of thought I attack it from." The woman smiled as her little girl stumbled down the narrow stairwell in short shorts that she only wore at home and a black tank top.

"No worries Darling," she laughed. "I know how you get when a theory doesn't seem to want to work in your favor." She smiled as she squeezed the girl's shoulder motherly. "However, you're going to be late if you keep this up."

"Crap!" the girl yelped as she suddenly shifted into overdrive. "What time is it?" Her green eyes were wide and her hands flew to her mouth in shock, fearing the worst.

"Time enough for you to sit and eat – slowly! – and then get into appropriate clothes before catching the bus to the campus," the woman said, laughter in her eyes as she ushered her daughter to the dinning room that sat next to – almost in – the kitchen. "Eat slowly and savor the food I've made you. I'll get him taken care of as soon as he's done."

The girl let her mother gently place her in a seat and stared at the food like it wasn't what it was. She moved automatically then, her hands flashing into action as she attacked the food. Her mother shook her head as she watched her choke the food down, not bothering to taste it. The girl's eyes flashed up to the clock and she slowed slightly but not enough to make her mother truly happy. Instead of getting after her, the woman called back up the stairs where the sound of running water finally shut off.

"I called for both of you!"

"I'm coming!" a male voice yelped. "Can I at least dry off and put pants on?"

"Food! Now! Before it gets cold!" the woman screeched, her legendary patience finally being tossed out the window.

"Mom!" the girl screeched in shock. "Don't do this to me!"

"Fine!" the woman huffed. "He can wear pants!"

"Thank you!" both of the housemates chimed in unison. The woman shook her head and went back to her kitchen. As she bustled about, she watched the girl slam down orange juice like it was a shot. Her brown eyes flitted to the creaking wood stairs as the male of the house tumbled down for breakfast. He was wearing jeans, a slight hint of black boxers at his hips. He was tossing on a gray shirt as he shambled over to the table.

"Sorry," he sighed as his head finally popped out through the collar. "My head was preoccupied on…something. It felt….Familiar." He shrugged his hands waving it off towards the walls as he sat down next the girl. He smiled at her and ruffled her short caramel blonde hair a bit before she slapped his shoulder without all that much force. He chuckled and dug into the food before him. "Wonderful as per usual Maria," he said as soon as his mouth wasn't full.

"Why thank you!" Maria smiled as she continued to bustle about. The girl stuck her tongue out at him as if to call him a kiss up. He stuck his out at her impudently and Maria chortled softly at how childish he was. He was maybe thirty but he acted like he was ten. "At least _someone_ appreciates my food," she added melodramatically.

"I like your food just fine Mom," the girl muttered somewhat bitterly. "I just can't think about anything but that theory at the moment!"

"What about school? Isn't your first day today?" the man asked gently. The girl nodded enthusiastically. She was smiling as she chewed on her bacon.

"Yeah it is," she confirmed. "I thought I was going to be late thanks to _somebody_ we both know." She glanced at her mother meaningfully and the man chuckled in amusement. This was so typical for these two.

The mother-daughter pair had been together for years and had lost both the father and the elder brother to the neighborhood they lived in. they couldn't move because Maria didn't have enough money to do so and it really wasn't as easy as it looked to leave. Maria was actually under the "protection" of one of the local gangs. Her husband had died in a rival gang attack and her son had died trying to get revenge. She and her daughter were seen as royal women because of the two men who'd died for the gang. That and Maria's husband had been high up in the gang. The man had seen pock markings from bullets in some of the walls still; as if they really couldn't refill them. There wasn't much of a point to refilling them; they would just be blasted open again sooner or later.

"Hey Mari," the man said to the woman. "Are you planning on letting her go alone?" His concern was well founded. He'd been with them for a month and in that time; there had been three or four drive by shootings. He didn't really like this place and was glad that the girl had a full boat scholarship to a prestigious university at such a young age – eighteen.

"If you wish to go with her then I will feel better yes," Maria sighed. The girl shook her head.

"No way! I'm going on my own!" the girl yelped through food. She waved the pointed end of her fork at her mother and the man. "Neither one of you is getting on that bus with me!"

Both held up their hands in submission. "Fine!" they chimed together. The girl glared at both, the look not really all that powerful, until she nodded in utter confidence that she had won. She shoved the last of her food into her mouth and handed off the plate and utensils to her mother.

"Gotta get dressed," she muttered to herself more than anybody else. "Gotta get ready to go. Carlos is planning on meeting me outside." She continued to ramble through her schedule as she wandered blindly up the stairs again. She was counting on her fingers as she spoke and the man watched her with concern. As soon as she was up the steps, he looked back at her mother to find his concern mirrored and heightened exponentially.

"Carlos?" he asked. "Does she mean Carlos Valero?"

Maria nodded her brown eyes agonizing over something he didn't have a firm grasp on. All he understood of Carlos was that he was working his way up and he was doing it fast. Maria's husband had had status but Carlos was currently above it despite his young age. Carlos was also trying to "win" Maria's little girl's hand. The man couldn't say the youth was winning but when it came to Maria's little girl, he could never be sure. She was as scatterbrained as he was but at least he had a real excuse.

His hand absently traced the scar of a head wound that circled his right temple. He didn't remember anything before waking up in the girl's bedroom, a damp rag cleaning his wounds. He didn't remember how he'd ended up in the area let alone how he'd been so badly injured. On his back were red welts that had turned into scars that he was unsure how he'd gotten. On his chest and torso were burn scars that made him guess at torture.

It had become painfully apparent how dangerous it was for him to be here even when Maria was protected. Her protection was limited even if she did have it. She and her daughter could do as they wished – which meant Maria could enroll her little girl in any school out of the area – and she could keep him there. However, the protection brought dangers from rival gangs. It was obvious who they were and their home was attacked almost regularly because of that knowledge.

The protection really only brought up a risk for the two women and for anyone who dared shoot "at" them. Retaliation was almost immediate if the gang thought Maria or her daughter had been aimed at; intentionally or not. Carlos had made that even more apparent when he stared courting the girl.

She was his and he took it personally if she was put in danger.

"I'm her mother," Maria murmured. "I worry as any mother should."

The man shook his head as he sighed. He sipped at his orange juice silently as he let the sound of shuffling around reach his ears from the upper floor. He really hated this area. He wanted Maria to get free of this place even if they didn't feel they could. He wanted them out of this life even though he knew it'd follow them. Maria's excuse for worrying was just another reason he wanted to get them out as soon as possible.

"How many times have I heard that in the past three and a half weeks?" he muttered his tone dark and almost murderous.

"You sound like them," Maria warned gently as she washed the dish her daughter had given her. She was actually rewashing it the way she always did when she was anxious. "You need to remember your history soon. I don't want you turning into them. You're too good for this life."

"Sorry," he replied, his tone softer and more apologetic. He downed the last of his juice and stood. "I need to get back to that problem. It's bugging me. Maybe I'll remember something if I keep up at it."

"Go on," Maria smiled. "Have fun. Change the world with numbers."

He nodded, a soft smile growing on his face. He felt his hand rub at his scar again as if it were a natural thing to do. He wanted to work with music in his ears, numerous chalkboards, and plenty of chalk. He didn't know why. It just felt like he was supposed to. In reaction to being unable to get such things – the music was somewhat easy considering the girl had an MP3 player with plenty of styles of music – he'd started to trace the scar on his head as he worked.

He passed a hallway mirror that had been shattered slightly from falling and being hit by flying bullets. It still reflected well though and Maria didn't want to get rid of it since it had been handed down for generations. He stared at his somewhat haphazard image and marveled at his dark curly hair, boyish face, brown eyes that screamed his intelligence was high, and obviously soon to be powerful jaw. He felt incomplete when he looked at himself in a mirror – of any kind – like another half of him was missing. It was like he was supposed to see another person before he saw himself.

Sometimes he did see the face he felt he knew well. As he trudged up the steps to see the girl bustling about, shoving things into her backpack, his thoughts still on that mystery face. He smiled at her and moved to get her fully charged MP3 from his room. In response to her allowing him to borrow it, he made a point of keeping it charged so she could use it too. He handed it to her on the sly enjoying the smile she gave him and then returned to his room to immerse himself in his papers.

That face sprang before his eyes as he was about to start writing again. He closed his eyes and tried to make it focus to no avail. All he could tell was that he was looking up at it as if the person it belonged to was taller than he was. Dark hair framed what he guessed was a strong face in a simple, casual crew cut. As it faded again – this time faster than it usually did – he sighed in remorse. He opened his eyes and rubbed his scar.

His thoughts suddenly cleared, the numbers coming to him easily, and he started back in. In seconds, he was in his own little world; one that was empty of the sound of horns, sirens, and gun shots. He was gone to the rest of the world and he felt like he was himself again. That was all he wanted at that moment.

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**Please review. Thanks.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

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Ian Edgerton sat in the back of the lecture hall in which Marshall Penfield was teaching. Don and Colby were sitting two rows ahead of him and it was apparent that Don wasn't really paying any attention. Colby was at least trying to understand even though it was noticeable that he was about to resort to smiling and nodding since that was all he really could so.

Ian however was finding the lecture boring in comparison to Charlie's usual speeches. Charlie was far more animated and engaging than this Penfield guy. He'd heard that the two mathematicians were friendly enemies and he could see why. Marshall was somewhat pompous and was dry in comparison to Charlie who actually fit well into the university's usual occupants. He could have sworn that there were more MISSING posters of Charlie here than anywhere else too even though they didn't cover nearly as many hallways as Millie apparently wanted them to – hence why her arms had been laden down with even more. That made it really clear how respected he was at CalSci.

To tell the truth, he was amazed at how he'd never heard about Charlie's disappearance. He wanted to blame being in the middle of a case but something told him it was Don who hadn't bothered to ask for help. Maybe the superiors had mentioned bringing Ian in but Don had been so focused on finding his baby brother that he hadn't done so. Ian couldn't believe he hadn't done so considering he could have made the investigation have gone somewhere. He had to congratulate Don for his determination but Christ he was an idiot.

Seeing Amita had been nice but she'd been so busy with classes she was covering and what she was working on that they hadn't had much time to speak. Larry and Millie had pounced on the chance for a case to work on that didn't include Charlie's disappearance. They wanted a distraction as badly as the agents did and they were more flexible than Ian had expected. All three seemed worn down but they were in better shape than the agents. Mille and Larry were worn from trying to pull Amita from her work but she was steadfastly rooted to what she was doing and refused to budge from it.

Ian clenched his fist and bounced it off his chin and mouth as he listened to Penfield. This guy had some amazing balls on him to be speaking of something named "The Eppes Convergence" when the kid was gone. He brought up something he said he'd found to be useless within the "original equation" before suddenly explaining that Charlie had come up with a variation that was named "The Penfield Variation."

"And then," Penfield concluded. "I felt like a major ass but Dr. Eppes and I shook hands and agreed to disagree." He shrugged. "Class dismissed."

The lecture hall became filled with the sound of shuffling papers and sighs of relief that they were done. Students passed them slowly, some chattering about future plans while others whispered that Don Eppes was there. They knew Eppes then. They must have seen him often since he had his brother as a consultant. The murmurs about Don being present brought up questions about Charlie. Had he been found or was this another case to be consulted on and they were only resorting to Penfield since they had no other choice?

"Nice to see you again Don," Penfield said as he was approached by the three agents when the students had cleared out. His face was drawn in concentration. He could tell that he wasn't going to be told Charlie had been found. Ian had to congratulate him on how quickly he'd noticed that this was a business call.

"Hey Marshall," Don said, his voice strained.

Ian had been right that he hadn't been getting much sleep. His agents may not have slept last night but at least they were sleeping. Ian had been shocked at how Alan had taken the disappearance – David and Liz had finally clued him in – but was only glad the elder man hadn't done something desperate.

At least he was crying.

"Can I help you?" Marshall asked gently as if he felt he was about to cross a line he shouldn't.

He was probably right. This was Charlie's area not his. He had better not expect he can take the professor's place in their lives. Ian had to give him credit for trying to be cautious but he wasn't about to like him for pretty much bad mouthing Charlie's ground breaking formula. Yes, Ian knew that was Charlie's "life's work" that Marshall had put down. It had finally dawned on him as he thought back to some research he'd done on Charlie years back after first meeting him. He personally felt Marshall should feel honored for being the namesake of the variation Charlie had come up with.

"We need a bit of consulting," Colby managed to grate out. Ian nearly died from laughter at how formal Colby was being. If this were Charlie, they would have joked a bit and then run into why they'd come. This wasn't Charlie though.

"I'll be happy to help," Marshal said carefully as he picked up his bag from a table. He stuffed some files into it and then looped the strap over his head so it would sit at a diagonal line across his torso. "Have you asked Millie and Larry in on it too? It'd be an honor to work with them."

Don and Colby nodded, Don slightly slower than Colby. He wasn't really there. He was somewhere in a memory that most likely held Charlie in the spotlight. Again. Ian nudged him roughly as Colby spoke to Marshall giving him a deadly look.

"Snap out of it," he hissed in Don's ear as he moved past him.

He could feel Don glaring daggers at his back as he began to look over the transparent boards on the stage. He didn't bother to try to understand any of what was on them. He knew he wouldn't and he couldn't bring himself to even look at something he knew Charlie had worked on for too long. He felt like he was being like Alan when it came to seeing things that reminded him of the professor. He shook himself mentally and turned to watch Colby and Marshall.

"You don't have a brother do you?" Don hissed suddenly in Ian's ear.

At least he wasn't lost in memories. Ian shook his head as if it weren't that big a deal. He didn't care that it would make Don want to hit him. He was doing this on purpose. He wanted Don to focus. He felt like he needed Don to focus or else they wouldn't be able to finish this case so Ian could work his own angle of Charlie's disappearance.

He could almost feel Don's hands constrict into tight fists. He was glad that Don wasn't focusing on Charlie at that moment. Don had to realize the sooner he snapped out of his worry, the sooner something might actually happen in Charlie's favor.

"Then you have no ground to talk," Don growled before spinning on his heel to speak to Marshall. His voice was stronger and Colby sent Ian a thankful glance. He nodded and then went back to looking over the hall.

Ian's eyes were about to focus in on certain chairs in the balcony as any smart sniper would when his eyes caught movement at the doors. His hand moved slowly to his gun as if he couldn't help it. He let it fall when he saw a young woman walk in, her eyes somewhat wide as she took in the hall. Don, Colby, and Penfield caught sight of her as well and Marshall was the first to speak up to her.

"Hello! Can I help you?"

Ian suppressed a twitch at how much more confident he sounded with the young girl than the students he'd had before. The girl stepped closer to reveal a subtly lithe and curvy form. Her caramel blonde hair fell in soft waves that were probably more noticeable if her hair were longer than it was. At present, she had it asymmetrically divided so the majority of her bangs fell on the right side of her face, the edges falling over the lobes of her ears by at least half an inch. Her green eyes glowed with anxiousness at her surroundings and yet she was completely calm.

"Hello," she said, her soprano voice hitting them like a calming wave at the beach. "I'm new here. My name's Sheila Rodriguez." She held up a hand to Marshall and looked at him expectantly. He smiled back and shook her outstretched hand.

"I'm Dr. Marshall Penfield," he replied. She smiled slightly at him and nodded in acknowledge. "Do you have your schedule?"

"Oh! Yes!" she chirped her movements suddenly spastic as she dove her hands into her bag. After a minute, her hands shot out of her bag with a piece of paper. She handed it over to Penfield and he looked it over, his hands suddenly shaking.

"You're a bit late for this class miss," he chuckled, his voice giving away his fear. Another student for Charlie's class apparently. Don's eyes were suddenly drowned in self pity again. "Did you get lost?"

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I went to where it told me but ended up getting lost trying to find this place." She laughed nervously then. "Sorry."

"No problem," Marshall insisted. "Next time uh just," he waved his hands in circles as he floundered for an answer, "just go to the library until after class ends. I'll be happy to help you catch up. Speaking of which, I need to give you some make up work." He glanced at Don and Colby. Ian waved him off.

"I'm sure Mille and Larry will let you in on whatever they find out," he muttered.

The girl smiled at him thankfully then let her eyes scan over the other two men. Her eyes stopped at Don and stuck. Ian felt his eyes narrow as she looked him over. It was like she recognized him from somewhere but she wasn't sure where. She shook herself visibly and followed after Marshall who was already moving – like he wanted to get away from the agents. She waved at them in farewell as she went.

Ian moved up to Colby and looked at Don as he stared at the boards as if he were watching Charlie again. "Did you see that look she gave Don?" he asked.

"Yeah," Colby sighed. "I don't think Don did though. He's watching the boards as if it was a portal to two months earlier."

Ian nearly growled profanities. "Of course. I distract him from what's bothering him and the first clue of his brother drags him back down."

"Yeah," Colby sighed as he nodded. He flipped out a notepad and wrote down the girl's name. Ian had a feeling that he might not have written it right but at least that was a start. Time was short and Ian grabbed Don by the shoulder to drag him off to the doors.

"What's up?" Don asked blankly. Ian nearly hit him.

"We're watching a girl," Ian growled back, his hand releasing Don's shoulder as he continued on. Colby was trailing after both of them carefully making sure Don kept going after Ian.

"Why? We have no reason to," Don muttered somewhat forcefully.

"My gut is tying itself into knots," Ian replied in a short tone. That was enough to shut Don up. Even Colby knew what a sniper's gut told him was usually right. The three came to a stop near the office Ian knew to be Charlie's to find Marshall handing the girl papers. He instructed her to only do what she understood and he'd assess how far she was.

"May I ask," Marshall began only to continue when the girl nodded. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," was her automatic answer. Marshall blinked and nodded in evident surprise. Ian was staggered too. He could feel the same feeling rolling off Don and Colby behind him in waves. She was like a female Charlie!

"Wow you've just reminded me of someone," Marshall murmured. She smiled.

"I'm better at science than math," she chimed. "I'm sure I'll do well enough though." Her smile was sincere as she bowed her head and moved off on her way.

"Uh, see you tomorrow," Penfield murmured, his voice soft. She nodded and waved good bye.

"Yes," she confirmed. "You will." With that, she was gone.

"I don't like her," Ian muttered. Colby sighed and nodded his understanding. "Let's go." They left the campus in silence, Don's eyes flitting over the area as if he were looking for his brother. Ian kept his mouth shut as he started the car. He was so preoccupied with his concern about Don's actions that he didn't see the pair of green eyes watching them leave.

* * *

**Please review. Thanks.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

* * *

"Ah come on!" Carlos whined, his deep voice suddenly sounding very feminine.

Sheila rolled her eyes and barely managed to suppress an annoyed huff. She really could have cared far less for his trying to win her over. She didn't want to go where all the other teens were hanging out. She had things to work on and she had a feeling her new housemate would be able to help out. He was good with numbers. She was better with science even if she understood that numbers and math were extremely important to her sciences.

Boys were far less important in comparison to her studies at the moment. She really only liked the man who was staying with her mother and her. She smiled inwardly at how he treated her. It was like she really mattered to him. She liked that. It was better than being Carlos' arm candy. Why he was the only boy who hadn't picked up on that was baffling to her. Every other boy picked up on it the second time she'd declined! Why couldn't Carlos?

"No!" she growled. "I've got homework to do!"

"Your first day and they give you _homework_?" he scoffed, his voice turning venomous as he spoke the word homework. She snorted softly at how he reacted to it. She knew well enough that he would but she was still slightly surprised. It wasn't like it was the plague.

Well, to him it probably was since it was taking her away from him.

"Come on," he whined again. "You should get out of that house."

"And run the risk of getting shot for real? No thanks." She watched the scenery whirl past as Carlos drove like the idiot he was. She wasn't in the mood for a ticket but Carlos had this talent for not getting caught by patrol cars. As much as it annoyed her, she had to be somewhat thankful that he had that talent. A fire fight wasn't something she wanted to get into even if she didn't mean to be there.

"Oh you know I wouldn't let nothin' happen to you!" he said in his annoying bravado.

"Double negative," she sighed as she rubbed her temple. "You've basically just told me that you _would _let something happen to me." She sent a cold look at him and watched as he shivered. He chuckled happily inwardly. He was so easy to scare when it was her talking. "Why are you even bothering to drive me there anyway?"

"Because someone's gotta look out fer ya right?" The bravado was back and her stomach was suddenly trying to return her lunch.

"I do believe I will take the bus tomorrow," she replied calmly. His eyes widened and he stared at her in amazement. She looked at him levelly and then returned her attention to the road. She didn't give a damn what he thought about her way of getting to school considering he wanted her to wash dishes and do laundry.

"Come on Babe!" he begged. "You know what I mean!" Her green eyes narrowed and she shot him with a lethal look.

"I'm not your girl so don't call me 'Babe' like it's some honor to be your bitch," she snarled, her soprano voice abruptly dipping into the contralto range. She was dead serious about this subject. He knew that too but he continued to cross the thick line she'd thrown in front of him as if he didn't. One would think he would have learned but he never did. Even when his buddies warned him to watch what he said, he never seemed able to.

"Whoa," he said holding a hand up. "Come on. Take it easy Sheila."

"Stop the car," she snarled in the same tone.

Her body was tense as Carlos sighed, his eyes showing he was cursing himself, and pulled the car over. She swung the door open as soon as he was slow enough that she wouldn't be throwing herself from the car. He slammed the brake – just as she knew he would – and her seatbelt caught her protectively. She unlatched it and yanked her bag out after she tossed herself away from the vehicle.

"Come on Sheila," Carlos begged. "Let's not fight."

"Little late for that," she hissed as she shrugged the bag onto her shoulders.

She loved her Coleman backpack so damned much. It held so much more than a tote or a bulky purse. She stomped off, knowing full well that he was going to trail her in the car until she got home. Thank god she was only a block or two away from her house. She didn't like being stalked even when she knew of it.

She stomped up the steps to her porch and dug her keys out of her pocket as she skipped up to the porch. She unlocked the door and slipped into the house. As soon as the door closed, she relocked it. She turned again, her eyes closed, listening as Carlos' car drove off with a squeal. She leaned back against the door and slid down to the floor. She was about to curl into a ball as tight as she could possible make when a voice called to her.

"Sheila?" her mother's patient asked from the dining room. Her head snapped up to look at the man she'd come to really like in less than a month. She liked messing with his dark curls as he smiled over his math problems. He was like a twin brother she had always wanted or at least an older brother who wasn't following Dad.

"Oh…" she breathed as he moved toward her. "Hey Charles."

He knelt next to her and looked at her with concern. She hugged her legs to her body as he gazed at her with those brown eyes that almost begged for something to help them remember who he was. All he remembered was a first name and nothing else. She stayed still as he moved to sit on her right, an arm wrapping over her shoulders. His hands twined together gently, pulling her into his side almost like a loving brother; a loving brother she hadn't seen or felt in five years.

"What happened?" he asked gently. She felt her left hand slide over his torso so she could pull herself closer to that warmth she felt denied of. She closed her eyes and wished for it to not be a dream. She was almost tempted to ask him to pinch her. "Sheila," he whispered.

"Carlos was being Carlos," she murmured. "You know how I act to so called tough guys."

He chuckled. "Yeah I do," he laughed. "A lot of people know how you act around tough guys." He shrugged softly so he wouldn't shake her too much. "I don't blame you really."

She sighed with relief. Here was someone she could always talk to. He was like a sponge that continued to absorb her troubles and cast them off to some unreachable place. It was like he could throw her worries into space in a tightly sealed capsule without causing any kind of insane anomaly in the universe.

"I feel better now," she giggled. He smiled his sweet smile and ruffled her hair.

"Relax," he said kindly. He patted her back, her backpack softening the gesture slightly. One of his brows lifted. "Homework already?" He sounded surprised. She nodded.

"Most of it is math related." She smiled pleadingly at him and he laughed as he understood. He nodded and helped her to her feet.

"Let's work together then," he beamed.

She nodded enthusiastically and he happily led her to the dinner table. Within the hour, the table was covered in papers, most of them covered in mathematical equations and formulas as they both huddled over separate papers. Charles was rubbing his scar and the point of his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Sheila was poring over science papers with as much ease as she had expected. Her math was not nearly as bad as she'd feared. Charles was one those mathematicians that made math make real sense. She had actually gotten through her math homework with the same amount of ease she usually had with science –she'd been faster even.

"Charles," she began as she found a problem she didn't understand.

"Charlie," he corrected automatically. She gave him a confused look. "What?" he asked when he finally came up from the work he'd dragged from his room when they'd finished her math.

"You just corrected me on your name," she explained. "You said 'Charlie.'"

He cocked his head to the side. "It must have been a nick name I guess," he murmured, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"One memory down," she cheered softly as she patted his shoulder. He smiled at her feeling better than he'd expected. She was right. It was one less memory to worry about. She felt so much better considering he'd remembering something more. They shared a smile for a long moment until she leapt up and fetched two glasses and orange juice.

"What's this?" he asked with a laugh.

"Celebration drinks!" She chimed. "You remembered something! Therefore, we celebrate it!"

Charlie smiled wider as he realized how serious she was. He had to admit that she at least had the decency to not go for the stash of wine her mother kept for parties. They still had no idea if he was an alcoholic and so they had all avoided having parties that had to have booze around him just in case. It was probably a good thing.

He took the glass she handed to him and toasted. Their glasses clinked together and they took a sip. He then smirked and proposed a celebration of her getting into CalSci. They toasted again and took a deeper drink. He sighed in joy just before Maria bustled in, balancing grocery bags in her arms. She saw the two drinking orange juice together and smiled sweetly.

"I'm glad to see you two are still getting along," she chimed as she shuffled through the small house. She placed the bags on the counter and kissed Sheila's forehead. "May I ask what the occasion would happen to be?"

"Charles remembered his nickname," Sheila smirked.

"It's kind of understandable though," Charlie explained quickly. "Charlie is a normal nickname to the name Charles."

Maria was smiling though. "That's still something to toast."

Charlie gave up. "Fine!"

* * *

**Please review. Thanks.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

* * *

Don was kicking himself and he was kicking himself hard.

It had finally dawned on him how deep he had buried himself in self pity and was about to drown himself in it to boot. Ian's poking at him had made it even more obvious as he got closer and closer to blowing up at the sniper for comments that shouldn't have been bothering him. Ian had always been right about things like that. He always knew when someone had to snap out of things and get back on track with their lives. Don had caught people without Charlie's help before. He could do it again.

At least, he hoped he could.

Ian was sitting next to him in the truck as they waited for a sighting of Cornel at a bar he had been known to frequent. They both watched the door and listened to the chatter from everyone else. The amount of chatter told them all they needed to know; Frank Cornel was not exiting through side doors or the back door. Since Ian wasn't much of a talker, Don had been forced to stay silent or look like an idiot by talking to the others. He had a feeling it would have been fine with Ian but he wasn't chancing it.

"Nothing here," Liz sighed from her seat on a side door. Don closed his eyes as he bit back a growl of annoyance. He could be sifting thorough Charlie's case file right now.

Ian's hand flicked out of no where and hit Don on the ear; hard. Don muffled his shout of pain and glared at the sniper who didn't even look like he'd moved. Don managed to not growl at him but he couldn't stop himself from muttering a curse as he rubbed his ear as soothingly as he could manage.

"Don?" Colby asked concerned. "You guys alright?"

"I'm fine," Don hissed as his eyes tried to bore holes in Ian's clothes. He was met with a level look that demanded he keep silent about it. "Whacked my knee," he muttered as his eyes battled with Ian's. Ian smirked and spoke finally.

"I'm surprised you guys didn't hear it," he said in a sultry voice. "I think they heard it where ever Charlie is."

There was stunned silence on the other radio links and Don couldn't blame them. He was already wishing he hadn't asked for Ian to come in but it was too late for that. He was wishing he'd tried harder to put Ian with Liz or Nikki who would have actually have been able to get away with striking back. He knew Ian wouldn't hit a woman unless he absolutely had to and it was rare for that to happen. Ian's control was amazing after all.

Ian watched Don, his smirk widening as Don gripped the door handle and edge of the seat as he tried hard to not get violent. Ian was surprised at how quickly Don had picked up on what he was doing. What surprised him more was that Don hadn't nearly killed him. He wasn't being subtle anymore with his hits and prodding. He didn't feel like he could hold back anymore. Don was too prone to think about Charlie and Ian couldn't let him if they wanted to finish this case.

Ian wanted to start his own little investigation into Charlie's disappearance as soon as possible.

"Nothing here either," Nikki chimed to break the silence. She was covering one of the side doors with another agent. She was also the first to pick up on Ian's little pokes at Don. She was the one who warned the others what he was doing and even that didn't stop him from prodding at them either. Given, Ian had been nicer to them than he was being to Don. They weren't as deep in self pity was Don was so there was less poking Ian had to do.

"Nothing," Colby murmured. Don could almost hear him and David shifting uncomfortably. Ian bit back a smirk at their discomfort. He let his eye fall back to the front door and watched carefully for Cornel. He wasn't too surprised that the guy wasn't coming out or entering. Just because the guy frequented this place didn't mean that he would actually show up here.

"Another hour and then I'm going to bed," Ian muttered darkly. He was a good tracker yes but this whole stakeout thing drove him nuts. He was patient yes but he preferred moving about while he waited unless he was looking through his rifle's scope.

"Not interested enough Edgerton?" Don hissed. Ian shot him another level look and shook his head seriously. He wasn't interested at the moment. Even Charlie's disappearance was hitting Ian hard. He was just better at not showing it than Don was.

However, he was beginning to wonder if he was as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was. Something told him the way he didn't look at things that reminded him of Charlie was too obvious even for this group of distraught agents.

"Bastard," he heard Don growled low in his chest.

"And I'm proud of it," Ian replied smoothly. "Hold on, I think we've got him."

Don sat up in his seat and pulled up a small scope. He nodded his own personal affirmative. It was Cornel in all of his macho glory. Strongly built muscles wrapped over his arms and legs and Don wouldn't want to feel the force behind one of his punches. His face was square and set in hard annoyance. Yet the guy walked confidently as if he was positive no one would catch him; ever. He moved to the bar easily and stood outside the front door to smoke.

"Calm enough he thinks a smoke won't hurt him too badly," Ian muttered. He rubbed his hands together and tensed in anticipation. "Let's get him."

"Wait a second," Don hissed, his hand catching Ian's shoulder. "Let's see what he does first."

"I thought you wanted to get this guy?" Ian growled. He could hear the others roll their eyes as they listened.

"I do," Don explained. "I want to know what he plans to do from here."

"If he runs off again, I'm not helping you catch him again." Don huffed at Ian's annoyed tone. The sniper had a point. They should have been moving in but Cornel's sense of calm was going a bit too far. He was far too calm and Don didn't like it.

"I want to know who his contact is," he explained softly. "Maybe they helped engineer his escape?" Ian shrugged his hand off and growled his agreement. He wanted to know who helped Cornel out too but he was more interested in ending this case. There were case files he could get into and he was fairly sure that his supervisors wouldn't mind if he wanted in on a missing person's case; even if the case was two months old.

Cornel sat and smoked for a few minutes until a low riding Cadillac pulled up, parking nearby. Two Latino boys hopped out followed by two white guys. The white guys sauntered into the bar, shaking hands with Cornel as they went. Ian was already snapping pictures. The two Latinos bummed cigarettes from Cornel and joined him for a smoke. One finished quickly and sauntered after his companions. The other stayed to talk.

Don had a microphone up in seconds and had the recorder turned on just as quickly.

"So," Cornel rumbled. "What do you need Carlos?"

"Not much," the kid Carlos muttered. "My girl is still in denial."

"I feel you man," Cornel sighed. "My sincere apologies man. I told you to just fuck her and get it over with man." He sucked on the cigarette and blew out a cloud of nicotine. "You want her, you gotta pin her down."

"She's Valdez's girl Frank. His son Michel saved your ass once remember?" Carlos growled in response. Cornel gave him a look.

"You mean Valdez Rodriguez?" Carlos nodded. "Man, I take it back. Even I know not to try for Sheila. She has no interest in guys from that world. You know that. She's trying to get out man! Let her get out! She doesn't fit in our lives."

"She's Valdez's kid. She's royalty in the neighborhood," Carlos snarled. "She should stay there."

Cornel shook his head. "Let her go man. Where's she going to school now? Princeton? Harvard? MIT? Come on, where?"

"CalSci," Carlos snarled his voice so damned bitter it made Ian squirm. "First day and they give her homework. Fuckers."

"I hear that's a hard school to get into," Cornel said calmly. "Come on man, you called me here. What do you want from me now?"

"I want you to get rid of someone."

"Who?"

"Maria and Sheila brought in a stranger into their house. I don't trust him. Claims to not have a memory but I know his face. He's been in the news before," Carlos growled as he waved his hand about, the lit butt glowing in the dark. "He's not safe. I want him out of her life."

"Damn," Cornel murmured. "Who is he?"

"You'll know him when you see him. His face is all over the place."

Cornel shrugged. "I'll see what I can do. Got any information for me?"

"He stays at the house all the time. Maria won't let him leave. Sheila seems to like him as if her were Michel's replacement." Carlos scoffed then and took a drag. "He'll most likely be alone all the time. I'll be happy to call you when I can have Maria distracted."

"Sounds good man. I'm happy to help you out man." Cornel finished his cigarette and stomped it out. "Call me when you get the chance. We'll see what I can do. I have to find an untraceable gun but I'll let you know when I'm ready."

"Good. See you later man," Carlos said as Cornel moved past him.

"Should we move?" Nikki asked. Don glanced at Ian to find him shaking his head.

"No. We need to find his target," Ian murmured. Don nodded.

"Stay put guys. We have to get this tape to the technicians and find who their talking about."

"You're finally awake Eppes," Ian sighed sounding slightly relieved.

"Shut up Edgerton."

Ian smirked.

* * *

**Please review. Thanks.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**So very sorry this took so long...**

* * *

"Who's this?" Sheila asked gently as she pointed at a MISSING poster. She had heard rumors that there were tons of the damned things all over the place but what with her getting lost so often, she hadn't been paying attention to the walls unless she was looking for a room number. Now that she actually had a pretty goo grasp of the place, she'd begun to notice a few more things like bulletin boards and what not.

With her were Mille, Larry, and Penfield – all of whom had been surprised at how well and quickly she'd caught up in only two days. They were giving her a private tour of the school finally and she had already warned Charlie that she would be late getting home. She was planning on taking the bus home to avoid Carlos for a little longer. The three seemed to stiffen exponentially when she pointed at the poster again.

"That's Dr. Charles Edward Eppes," Penfield said softly.

"He's Charlie to his friends," Millie murmured as she shifted uncomfortably. Larry seemed to curl into a ball as he looked away from her. Sheila suddenly found herself thinking back to one of her other teachers, Amita Ramanujan, who seemed locked in herself because of something.

"I feel like I'm missing something here," Sheila murmured, a small smile on her face. The three professors looked at each other nervously.

"He's the professor that I'm subbing for," Penfield said finally. "He's…brilliant."

"His brother works for the FBI," Mille muttered. "He does consulting for them too."

"Oh," Sheila sighed. "I guess I get to look him up." She reached for the poster, her green eyes glazed over with recognition at the picture. There was no way someone looked that much like her Charlie unless they were him. Now, she was learning he was a freaking math professor? A brilliant one too? That made things make so much more sense.

"I guess so," Millie sighed, a soft smile gracing her features. Sheila knew that expression. Her mother had had it more than once after her father and brother were killed.

"Well," Larry declared in his own flourish. "That's the tour. Any questions you have can be given to any one of us if you wish for assistance."

"Thank you," she said as she bowed her head. She slipped the poster into her folders. "I should be heading home now. Thank you so much professors."

They nodded and waved at her as she left. Her feet carried her faster than she expected them to. She got home faster than she thought she would and her hands shook as she unlocked her front door. She slipped inside as her eyes caught a glimpse of a face she felt she knew but it wasn't clear. The deadbolt fell into place smoothly and she leaned her head against the door.

Turning around, she found papers all over the tables and floor of the small living room. There were more on the dinning table. The radio was blasting music she didn't recognize but didn't mind. How she hadn't heard it outside surprised her but she chalked it up to how muddled her mind was at that moment. In the middle of it all was Charlie, his hand at his scar and then writing as he tapped his foot quickly.

"Wow," she breathed. Charlie jumped and turned to finally look at her. "Holy crap Charlie, what happened in here?"

"I…" he shrugged. "I had a sudden epiphany. I felt like I had to get it onto paper or else it'd stay it in my head."

"Again I way wow," she murmured as her eyes rolled over the amount of paper. "Holy crap."

"Thanks," he chuckled softly. "Sorry about that."

"It's not me you need to worry about." She waved her hands back and forth quickly before herself. "Mom's used to this stuff with me too so I wouldn't worry too much about it but still…wow Charlie."

He smiled sweetly. "You look stressed out Sheila," he murmured. "It's not normal for you to look stressed out."

"Changing the subject are we? I'm impressed." She smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm fine. A ton of homework but you know how it is – sorta." They chuckled softly at the slight jab she'd just given him.

"I warned your mother CalSci looked like a tough school," he shrugged. "You're doing great though so I'm not too worried. If you need any help I'll be…burying myself in algorithms." He waved his arms out in a wide arc and his eyes danced with laughter and complete solace. She blinked back tears once she saw how comfortable he was in the mass of math.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him what she'd found. She didn't want to shatter that solace. She waved at him in understanding and slipped up the stairs to her room.

She sat before her computer for an hour after she finished her work – stymied how quickly she'd done it – and she rubbed her hands over her face. She sighed resolutely and stared once again at the search engine main screen. She watched her fingers type up the name that lay under the picture she felt staring at her from the pile of finished homework. She pressed ENTER and watched it sift through the amount of sites that were seen as relevant.

She went over the sites that truly did pertain to what she was looking for only to find that the guy figuring algorithms and equations downstairs was a prodigy. He was a professor at her university and he had been known for consulting for the FBI and possibly the NSA and other major departments of the government. She scrubbed her face over again and sighed. She didn't need this on her plate. Looking deeper, she found the mathematician's family; a father, a brother, a deceased mother, and a near marriage.

"Wow," she breathed. She growled a soft curse and slipped down the stairs to find her mother cooking in the kitchen happily.

"Oh! Sheila, have you finished your homework?" She gave a nod earning her a worried glance. "What's wrong darling?"

"I think I know who Charlie is."

Maria stared at her daughter wide eyed for a moment before placing her wooden spoons and measuring implements down. "That's wonderful news darling," she stated as she scrubbed her hands clean on her apron, moving towards Sheila with a soft smile on her face. "What's bothering you so much?"

There was a deafening pause as Sheila rubbed her arms like she was cold. "He's really famous Mama; Childhood genius with math type thing."

"Makes plenty of sense to me," Maria shrugged. "What's wrong with it?"

"His big brother's in the FBI…Charlie's been known to consult for him."

Maria's face paled substantially as the understanding sank in immediately. She glanced up the steps remembering just how thin the walls of her house were, her hands scrubbing themselves raw in her apron. Glancing back to her daughter, she breathed through her nose slowly, turning to her cooking once more.

"Dinner will be ready soon darling. Make sure Charlie's up." She waited for the steps to creak before she spoke again. "Don't tell him what you learned. I will speak to the authorities tomorrow alright?"

She didn't glance over her shoulder to see the nod Sheila gave before dragging herself up the creaking steps. She didn't need to; once she made a decision, it was final. There was no need to say anything else. She already had a plan unfolding before her. She'd take care of things.

* * *

**Please review. Thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**So very sorry this took so long...I was in Walden, Colorado working with a large animal vet. I got to see a lot more blood and guts this year and my laptop still doesn't like Word - freezes up when I open it - so I didn't work on much of anything up there.**

* * *

"So you called me in for an issue that's leading you to the gangs?" Detective Gary Walker asked somewhat skeptically as Colby and David lead him through the bullpen. The two agents chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah," David murmured easily, his spirits higher than they had been for months. Ian had been pestering at them all to get their heads back in the game least they really did loose Frank Cornel and whoever his new target was. Of course, it had helped that he'd gotten Liz and Nikki so fired up they'd nearly beaten him to death in the pen for his troubles.

"Did I seriously miss the girls hissing and spitting at the sniper Edgerton?" Walker asked carefully, his voice lowered so as to avoid being over heard too much. David could almost hear the worry that the women were still a little…edgy and not in a good mood. He smiled softly and tried to not chuckle at the elder officer.

"Yes and we're going to drop that subject now," Colby snickered. "Though, in all seriousness, my money was on Nikki and Liz."

"Mine would have been too," Walker scoffed. "Never, ever, piss off women – unarmed or otherwise," he added. Colby and David started to chortle, their hands over their mouths as they tried vainly to stop themselves.

The two male agents stifled their laughter – barely – into snickers as they entered the War Room. Walker's eyes fell onto the scattered files automatically; his mind quickly wondering if Charlie had been found and he'd missed a memo; if he had, he was going to rip Don a new one.

As soon as he saw Don though, he knew to not ask; Charlie wasn't back and this whole place was only made to look like he was to add some semblance of comfort. However, he couldn't piece together why Colby and Sinclair seemed in better spirits than their leader.

Looking at Don, his head in his hands as he stared at files, Gary couldn't help but feel like he was looking back in time weeks after Charlie disappeared. The two months of hell seemed to be replaying before his eyes as he watched Don droop, melting into the files as if he were turning into paper himself.

"Three…two…one," Colby whispered to David before a ball flew through the room, slamming into Don's head causing him to jump. His sudden movement of course sent his chair backwards but it caught his legs and dragged him down with it. Walker stared at the downed and groaning agent as his subordinates tried to cover their mouths to stop the laughter from escaping.

"Snap out of it Eppes or I'll start up the bullshit again!" Ian Edgerton roared from the door, Liz and Nikki giggling like school girls behind him, clutching their stomachs painfully. Walker blinked and watched Don growl and glare at the sniper.

"I should shoot you," he snarled at Ian as he clambered back to his feet. "That was battery!"

"Oh I didn't even touch you Don," Ian cooed easily as he stalked up the other agent, his eyes dark and foreboding. Walker couldn't help but stare as he got closer to Don, and didn't back down an inch. "I've told you to snap out of it so do it!"

"Uh…Detective Walker's here," Colby mumbled as he shuffled past the two agents who looked about ready to slit each other's throats. The two women of course were seated and minding their own business as they went through the files, scowling at the scattered papers.

"Gary?" Don asked sounding winded. He spun to stare at Walker and forced out a smile. Edgerton rolled his eyes and nudged him roughly with an elbow. He bared his teeth at the agent and looked about ready to hit him when Gary stepped in.

"Going off the fact you called me in," he began cautiously, "I can only guess you need help contacting someone in my area."

"Yes," Liz stated, her head shooting up from the mountain of papers. "A Maria Rodriguez who lives in a spot known for the Mexican gangs."

She lifted a file up to Walker who took it from her hands gently. He opened it to look at the old picture of Maria arm in arm with her deceased husband. He frowned at the smiling faces knowing full well she didn't smile like that to anyone outside her own bloodline.

"You know her?" David asked. Walker nodded.

"Her husband Valdez was pretty high up in the gang. He and his son Michael are dead now – gang shootings and the like."

"The usual things," Nikki murmured sadly. "So…she's alone?"

Walker shook his head. "No. She's got a daughter named Sheila who's damned adamant about leaving the area. Last I checked, she'd gotten into a prestigious school." He slapped the file down onto a table. "I'll go alone. I've been seen there before with her, and am a normal sight around there. I'm due for a visit I guess."

"You shouldn't go alone," Colby muttered shoving another file at him as David pressed a button on the projector remote. On the screen was a police photo of a man measuring nearly six feet tall, bald head, arms covered in tattoos, and mean looking brown eyes. He was snarling at the camera but Walker sow more than malice towards the police in that look.

"Meet Frank Cornel, our escaped convict. As far as we can tell, he's only met with one friend – a kid named Carlos."

"I know Carlos," Walker stated. "He's trying to win Maria's daughter over. She's not going for it but he's got his own agenda."

"From what we could tell, Maria is housing someone Carlos doesn't trust," Colby muttered. "My suggestion would be to find the house guest and get him into protective custody."

Walker scoffed and shook his head. "I'll see what I can do. Maria may know me but she's also wary of cops. Her daughter's worse in some ways. I'll do what I can and tell you what I find out alright?" The others nodded in agreement.

"You still shouldn't go alone," Edgerton growled as he crossed his arms.

"Trust me, you want me going alone. Any one else, and every one in the neighborhood will close ranks against you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long drive ahead of me."

"Yeah sure," Don murmured. There was a tentative knock on the doors then and a young agent popped her head in. "Yes?"

"There's someone here to speak to you Agent Eppes," she replied nervously. Walker lifted a questioning brow and glanced at David.

"New transfer," David whispered softly. "She's been told legends about our unit." Walker simply nodded in understanding. He'd seen it with new cops around him and the other senior detectives. It was normal.

Don grimaced and looked at Ian hopefully. Ian rolled his eyes and muttered he'd take care of it before wandering out.

"I'll be back soon," Walker muttered as he waved. "See you later."

* * *

**Please review. Thanks.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alret doesn't tell me jack.**

* * *

Charlie found himself staring closely at the papers before him. He had been working nonstop on his theories and all for nothing. Someone else had beaten him to the solution and it was driving him nuts. He wanted to meet this person and ask how they did it. He really couldn't believe he was so far behind on his theories but he was beginning to realize he was and there was nothing he could do about it.

His head began to hurt again. It was the third time that day that it had happened and it was beginning to get on his nerves. With each headache, there were flashes of memories and he wasn't fully sure he wanted to have them back. He would see himself being injured and yelled at by some guy he had a feeling he knew…sort of. The face was blurred but he felt like he knew the person somewhat well and his stomach would tighten in knots. He hated gut reactions.

They tended to be correct.

Sheila wasn't present at the moment and nor was Maria. Charlie groaned and leaned his head onto the table. The memories had been getting clearer as time went on which he wasn't sure he could be glad about it. He had a feeling that he shouldn't remember what he'd been through but then again, he wanted to know. It was always helpful to know if someone was out to get you and amnesia was such a pain in the ass to deal with. He hated having to try to remember when he wasn't sure it was the greatest idea to do so.

There was a knock at the door causing Charlie to jump in fear and surprise. He shook his head with a gruff sigh. How the hell had he managed to make a knock on wood sound like a gun shot? He stood, patting his hands on his pants as he tried to wipe off the sweat that had accumulated. He moved for the door, scratching his head. The memory he'd just gotten had made no sense; he was looking at blueprints of a building…one he had a feeling he'd seen before.

"Hello?" he asked as he opened the door, keeping himself positioned behind the wood so only his eyes were visible.

"Uh hello," a slightly macho looking cop muttered as he began to look about himself. Charlie could hear his feet shuffling and his finger tapping his gun. He couldn't really blame him considering how cops weren't usually spoken to around here. "I'm Detective Gary Walker," he added as he removed his shades. "Is Maria Rodriguez here?"

Charlie stared at the man, the door opening wide to allow him to look at him completely. He was about the same height as Charlie, white as chalk save for the slight tan he sported, receding blonde hair, and was probably what some would see as a "flat foot" going off the entire appearance that gravitated about him. Charlie let the door return to a small slit as he tried to school his voice. Something about this man was familiar.

"N-no," Charlie murmured, the man sighing at the response. "She's not here at the moment. May I help you?"

"I just need to talk to her," the detective muttered as he lifted the shades from his face to rub his eyes tiredly. He placed the shades back in place and pulled a card from his pocket. "Please, have her call me. It's urgent that she speaks to us."

Charlie wrinkled his nose at the last word. "Us? Police aren't very well liked around here you understand right?"

The man gritted his teeth and whirled to face him. Charlie felt himself shrink further behind the door as the man glared at him through the sunglasses. The young man felt his knees tremble as his stomach tied itself into knots. He knew that stare. He knew this man. He… just… couldn't… remember… _why_.

It bothered him profoundly.

"I'm working with the FBI," the officer managed to growl out without turning scarlet with rage. Charlie would have applauded him if he weren't so busy being slightly terrified of him and busy trying to remember him. Walker continued to glare at the slit door, his eye twitching as slightly fearful brown eyes gazed back at him through the crack.

"Good for you," Charlie managed to spit out. He was surprised at how pleased he sounded, like he could actually mean what he'd said. "What does that have to do with Maria?"

"I need to speak with her," Walker replied as he straightened his back a bit more, his face softening a bit. There was something about how the corner of his mouth twitched though that told Charlie he was nowhere near being in the clear. "The FBI needs to speak with her as well. It's a matter of her safety."

"I will be happy to tell her that you stopped by Officer," Charlie stated calmly. He flexed his fingers around the door frame and gave the officer a pleading look. "Please leave now. These streets aren't the safest place for people in your line of work."

"Think I don't know that?" Walker muttered slightly bitter at the reminder. Charlie however saw him backing up slowly. "Tell Sheila I said hello will you then?"

"Alright," was the soft reply before the door shut and he heard locks being put back into place.

Walker glanced up and down the door at the locks that he knew were rarely all used at the same time. He remembered when Valdez and Michael had been around – when Sheila was barely walking – and the locks were always all locked. Valdez died, Michael added a few more locks and kept his little sister on a very short, protective leash. Michael died and Maria had locked herself and her remaining child away from the streets for a few days until she suddenly turned the locks and kicked the door open, eyes ablaze.

_"You all," she'd shouted from her porch, finger pointing accusingly, chidingly, and annoyed at all the young men who'd gathered about like guards or sentinels. They tumbled off their cars, eye wide, apologetic, and…fearful. She glared t them all before continuing on._

_"You all hear me good! I've lost my father, my mother, my brothers, my husband, and now my son to your idiocy. I forbid you to drag my daughter – the only thing I have left worth living for in this world – into that same absurdity! Do you hear me?"_

_The men had nodded and scattered quickly as she bustled down the steps, a pan in one hand and a ladle in the other, brandishing them like weapons. All the while, a seven or eight-year-old Sheila stood at the door, her emerald eyes wide with what Gary had always thought was fear._

Looking back, he now knew it was astonishment at her mother's speech. He couldn't say he and his partner at that time hadn't been much less than bemused at the sight. He glared at the locks, remembering how Maria hadn't taken them out but had saved the keys just in case. He also remembered when little Sheila started to be seen as what she was; a force of brilliance to be reckoned with.

Carlos was biting off more than he could chew courting her. That much was clear.

He shuffled off the porch, his thoughts straying between the thought of the little girl he'd once watched play in the street with her brother and his – admittedly overprotective – friends, Charlie, and the man he'd just met at the door.

Those eyes were familiar to him, the voice as well.

He could have sworn they were almost pleading him to tell the youth more about him, his job, his friends, his family…everything. At his car he stopped to look back at the door only to have his eyes drift to the slight bend in the curtains. Brown eyes locked with his again. The contact lasted for a mere moment before he saw a somewhat calloused hand drop the curtain and ruffle it back into place.

He could have sworn he'd seen a mop of black curls silhouetted as the person moved back into the house. He threw the driver's side door open and fell into his seat. He slammed the door shut and lifted the radio to his mouth.

"Walker to Eppes, please respond," he droned. There was a pause.

"Don's a little busy," Sinclair's voice chimed on the other end, his words slightly garbled by static. Gary snorted softly. "What's up?"

"I think I've met the house guest while both women were – are – out," Gary replied. "Something about him made me twitch."

"That can't be good," David murmured after a moment.

"What about him made you 'twitch'?" Granger asked suddenly.

"Something about his eyes and his voice. They sounded familiar but I'm not sure how so." HE paused for a moment as he tried to digest it again. He could almost see Granger and Sinclair exchanging worried looks. "I'm going to head over to CalSci," he added quickly, hoping he wasn't timing it badly. "I want to check up on Sheila."

"Alright," Colby replied. "We'll see if we can get eyes in the area ASAP."

Walker understood the translation of the statement's tone; don't expect much to happen. He gave an understanding and placed the receiver back into its hold before turning his keys and gripping the steering wheel. He swerved away slowly and moved out of the neighborhood as calmly as he could make himself go.

All the while, he was glancing back at the house with his rearview mirror, noticing the curtains move to reveal a soft face covered with suspicion and fear. He didn't see more than half of the man's face but even that made him want to race out of the neighborhood as fast as possible. That face, those eyes, that voice…something was familiar about that man.

He didn't like the feeling that twisted in his stomach as he thought about it. He knew the man, he was sure of it. Something in his gut told him it wasn't a bad thing he knew him. However, that same feeling was telling him the man should have known him as well.

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**Please review. Thanks.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**So enters an OC that I don't expect people to like. Call her a Mary Sue if you wish but let me tell you, she's not in any way wishfulfilling on this end of the computer.**

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Don Eppes stared at the CalSci Campus with stern eyes. Ian was sitting on the bumper of the car behind him, watching him carefully. It was almost becoming a natural thing, Ian never really leaving his side. He was getting used to it. It wasn't scaring him either. It was…almost comforting to know that he had at least one friend who was willing to kick him – literally – into shape if need be rather than try to give him space.

Speaking of space, the new recruit had no idea about it.

The young woman had an excellent record but that was at Quantico only. She had passed all her tests at the expected average – she was the highest average of her class in fact – and she had proven herself to be willing to do any sort of work thrown at her. Of course, the fact that she was so damned pleased to have been placed with his team had not made his day any brighter. He knew very well what kinds of stories floated about when it came to his team. He could have sworn he'd heard every one of them flow from her mouth the entire ride over. He was sure she was about to start repeating them as well.

The girl – that's all he could see her as and that was mainly to avoid letting his temper out on her – wasn't tall but she wasn't too short either. She wasn't very eye catching what with her small chest, flat looking body, and plain face with a small nose that looked invisible at certain angles, thin mouth, somewhat dull green eyes, and large forehead topped with a head of stringy looking sandy, blonde hair. If Bella Swan was blonde, she would have been his new recruit.

"Of course there was also the time your team took down the guy who was using that one MMORPG thing and killing off his opponents as he went," she babbled on as she paced around him in circles. It was easy to stare over the top of her head – she was shorter than Charlie after all. Don felt his teeth begin to grind again. She was repeating herself now, he was sure of it.

"That," she stated, stopping in front of him and pointing to nothing in particular, "that was amazing work." She was moving again. "I heard that one of your team – god who was it again? – nearly drowned when a dam or something was opened, flushed, whatever," she was waving her hands as she shook her head. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Ian muttered for him, his tone sounding grated and irritable. _Good_, Don thought. _I'm not the only one getting annoyed around here._

"Who was it again?" she asked Don, like Ian wasn't the one who'd spoken. Don heard him shift on the car but didn't dare to turn around to see if he looked as irritated as Don thought he did. He didn't really want his belief to be proved correct though.

"Sinclair," Don lied, wondering if she'd pick up on it.

"David Sinclair? I thought it was Colby Granger?"

"Actually," Don muttered, letting his eyes fall to hers, "now that I think about it, it was Granger along with two civilian consultants." His eyes grew hard then. "One of those consultants was my little brother."

"His deceptively strong little brother," Ian added. Don heard him shift again only this time he wandered up to Don's side and glared down at the young woman. "Of whom we are still looking for in case you forgot," he hissed dangerously low. Don placed a hand on his friend's chest and pushed him back as the girl quaked in her shoes.

She looked like she wanted to reply but a sharp look from Don hushed her quickly. She began wringing her hands together, shuffling away from the two men, eyes wide with fear. All three lifted their heads when a marked cop car rounded a corner and parked itself next to the black SUV they had driven up in together. Gary Walker lifted himself from the marker car and slammed the door shut with a little more energy than was probably needed – the damned car shook – and stomped over to them.

"I take it, it wasn't productive?" Ian asked gently as Walker snatched his shades off his nose.

"Not really no," Walker muttered. "I think I met the house guest though."

"That's good though right?" Don asked as gently as he dared. "Who was he?"

"I didn't see much of him through the barely open door but I have a feeling I know from somewhere," Gary growled uncomfortably. His pale eyes slid to his right to catch a glimpse of Don's father Alan with Larry, Millie, and Penfield, all three marching slowly towards them, wrapped in some conversation of their own.

"One of your catches maybe?" the young recruit asked softly, timidly. Gary gave her strange look before turning a questioning eye – or two – to Don and Ian.

"Meet Mellissa Reynolds," Don muttered with an almost dismissive wave of his hand toward the girl. "She's the new transfer you heard about before going to the Rodriguez's."

Gary gave an understanding nod. Ian shuffled his feet impatiently as they waited for Alan and the rest to join them. Reynolds of course gave each of the new arrivals confused looks before sending a look to Don that clearly said, _'There's a reason for this right…Sir?'_ Don ignored her.

"Hey Dad," he stated to Alan as he forced a smile onto his face. Alan greeted him back, his smile a little more genuine. The two hugged and Don gave his father a worried look as if to ask _'You alright?' _which earned him an impatient nod from Alan. Larry and Millie smiled at Don and at Walker giving small waves to Ian as well. Ian waved back gently as Gary nodded at them.

"Hello Son," Alan replied happily as he sent a wave to Ian and then another to Gary. Both men waved back. Alan's eyes fell on Reynolds and Don could see from the look on his face it took a few seconds for his brain to register she was really there "Who's this?"

"Mellissa Reynolds," she stated proudly. Don closed his eyes and set his jaw to avoid saying anything. It continued to surprise him exactly how proud that girl could sound when she tried. To his ears, he heard her seem almost miffed by the pathetically obvious attempt to salvage ones manners – after all, his father had missed her for a moment and Alan didn't usually miss people.

"Nice to meet you," Alan stated as they shook hands. "Uh…What brings her – you – here?" Ian snorted softly at Alan's attempts at politeness. He of course had heard the stumble over words that Reynolds obviously hadn't. Not that she would have anyway. She was busy trying to impress the father of the great Don Eppes.

"She's acting as a fresh pair of hands on the case," Don muttered. Larry and Millie gave him questioning looks. He knew what those looks meant. He'd seen it from his father a few times before – usually when Charlie was having a melt down of some sort about something at school messing with his consulting work.

"Translation; they won't let you do any more unless you have her around right?" Millie asked softly with a snide wink sent Reynolds' way. Don smiled at her and kissed her cheek.

"Damn Skippy," he growled a bit bitterly. She chuckled in understanding as he shook his head.

"Am I correct in assuming that you require our assistance with your most recent case still?" Larry asked gently. Don glanced to Penfield who did look a bit hopeful in the idea of helping out more than he was already.

"Yeah," Don sighed with a huff. "We need a definitive escape route for Cornel. How he got away from the jail, where he may have hidden afterwards, and most importantly how he'd gotten out of the jail in the first place."

"I do believe we can do that," Millie chimed happily. It was something for her to do. Something other than worry about Charlie. She glanced over to Alan who stood next to a still confused Reynolds, a smile on his face as well.

Yes. Anything to take their minds off of Charles Eppes for a moment was good. Ian smirked at them and then shot Don a knowing look like he was trying to say 'Told you so.' Don ignored the look but clapped his hands together with a firm nod.

"Right then! If you all will come with us to the FBI, I can get all the data we've got and you can get started," he stated, a grin beginning to grow on his face as he spoke. Gary gave Ian an impressed look. He'd been present for the first BOLO put out on Charlie's car…One of his guys had found it and had called him.

The image of the completely undamaged car sitting on the side of the street still haunted him to this day. Sometimes there was something slightly different about it; he'd come up to it to find it stripped bare to he'd find it simply destroyed, Charlie still belted into the seat eyes wide and unblinking. He shook his head to dislodge the train of thought. He blinked after a moment, his eyes barely catching the others moving to their respective cars around him.

Charlie's eyes… That man at Maria's place stared at him through a barely opened door. Charlie's voice spouting off equations…That man asking if he could help him. Charlie's mop of curly hair popping up from one of cubicles of the bullpen…those curls disappearing behind the curtains of Maria's house.

"Hey Gary," Ian shouted as he shook Gary's shoulder. Gary stared at him like a deer in the headlights. Ian gave him a worried look that was chased quickly by suspicion. "You good? We're leaving."

"Yeah," Gary sighed with a forced nod – or six. "I'll follow. I still have to tell you about that house guest don't I?"

"Yeah," Ian stated, his eyes still suspicious. He clapped Gary on the shoulder before trotting off to the black SUV's passenger side and climbed in. Reynolds stood a few feet away, her eyes conveying she wasn't completely sure about civilians coming to the FBI offices for anything if they weren't going for questioning.

Gary suddenly felt himself drifting back to the 'invisible' man at Maria's as Reynolds stepped over to him, Don pulling out of the lot slowly. She smiled at him kindly, her eyes saying what Don's car leaving without her said plainly; she was going with him.

"You piss Eppes off or what?" he asked. She blushed, her smile faltering. He watched her shrug and shook his head. "Get in the car." She tumbled into the passenger seat as he eased himself into the driver's seat. "How long have you been at this job of yours?"

"Not very long Sir," she replied, her smile back. Gary couldn't help but feel she'd have a difficult time getting any kind of attention. "I haven't even had my so called baptism under fire yet. To tell the truth, I don't look forward to it."

"You're basically telling me you're useless," Gary muttered as he revved the car to life. He checked his rearview mirror as he switched the car into reverse, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Sheila, books clutched to her chest as she watched his car pull out. She didn't stay long though, her bag bouncing against her legs as she walked away briskly, a hand digging into her pockets for something.

"I'm not useless," Reynolds muttered bitterly, her face turned away from him. "Who is that girl that's walking away?" He didn't dare look where she was pointing. "She's moving a little quickly isn't she? What could be so important I wonder? School's out and if she has any sense, she'll be heading home or to a library for studying time. What do you think?"

"I think, you should be quiet so I don't run my car up a pole," Gary muttered darkly.

* * *

**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alert doesn't tell me jack.**

**Please review. Thanks.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

* * *

Frank Cornel flipped through channels in a bored fashion. His friend Carlos had allowed him to stay over in one of his own private hangouts. To Frank, it was damn near being a palace. He had plenty of room to himself and Carlos tended to keep up with his cable bills – those, and his house payments and car payments but Frank knew very well those were taken care of first. To Frank, this little one-floor building was the closest thing to a real home he'd ever encountered.

Sure, being in jail had provided him with his own security system, three square meals a day, and a roof over his head. He hadn't minded solitary either – that was usually, the highlight of his weeks – because they always came after a good, well deserved fight. He had enjoyed quite a bit of his time in jail but now that he was out, he was having far more fun. He had more free time to do whatever it was he wanted and he was planning on using it; as soon as he took care of one problem for Carlos of course.

He'd read up a bit on his target – mainly out of boredom and nothing else – and couldn't help but feel it would be easy. The whole thing of the guy – apparently – being a civilian consultant to his big, bad FBI brother was turned moot due to the obvious nature of what was going on with him – if he was staying at Maria's he couldn't have much contact with the FBI – they don't send civilians undercover after all. The fact he was a complete math geek – prodigy and what have you – simply made him think that the 'great' Charles Edward Eppes had no kind of ability to really protect himself.

Frank paused on a news channel and decided that he really was bored enough to watch it rather than watch a good game of ball – not like his teams were playing anyway and he hated baseball and soccer and didn't consider water polo or tennis real sports. He had the volume down pretty low since he didn't want to draw too much attention to his little palace – even thought loud noise wasn't really something he had to worry about in that area. He liked his privacy after all. He stared at the screen in a bored manner, interest in the news anchors' moving lips and over acting. He waited until the camera moved onto a story at CalSci, the banners declaring where they were reporting. He upped the volume quickly.

"…of course, the school seems to be looking forward to the upcoming mathematics conference that will be hosted at the university campus," the on site reporter stated loudly, like they had something to be heard over. The fact that there was a lack of any background nose other than moving students and bird song – not like they had much to worry about since the footage wasn't any where near live now.

"Sheila will be bursting with pride," Frank chuckled to himself. His eyes noticed a student moving in the background, her shape instantly recognized. She had a hand up to her ear, face pale and covered in a layer of fear and worry but he could recognize her easily enough. He smirked and stood. "I guess I'll go say hello tomorrow."

* * *

Mellissa Reynolds was watching the team. The professors and Alan all sat near the boards, listening carefully to the agents and the detective spoke. She watched as the professors said they would need a little more data, the agents passed over what they could find every chance they got, Ian and Don shared looks with Gary, and she simply stared. Walker and Don's team had to go over what they knew of Cornel's escape, his old associates, and his old habits; all of which seemed to play into what the professors were calculating.

"Alright," Walker muttered slowly as he digested what had been told to him. "You," he pointed at Marshal, Millie, and Larry as he spoke slowly, "have Sheila Rodriguez in your classes and school hence why you," he gestured towards Don, Ian, and the team, "are worried that if the house guest – whose voice and eyes seem very familiar to me – is there, in the open, Frank Cornel, the escaped con will take the opportunity?"

There were nods all around the room and Gary Walker felt himself sink into one of the chairs. He rubbed his temples and tried to think of a way to calm them all down but it was apparently a wasted effort. He sighed and shrugged at them all signaling he had no idea what to tell them. As glad as he was to hear the rumors of Sheila's move to CalSci were true, he wasn't completely sure he liked the idea of her housing someone Frank Cornel – whose work he'd seen – had his sights on killing. Of course, it didn't help that something about said house guest seemed familiar – though, when he tried to figure out why, the reason escaped him.

"Of course," Don stated as calmly as he could manage.

The case was beginning to rub him the wrong way; Sheila was bringing a lot of danger to the CalSci campus – which of course scared him because now his father was helping Millie, Larry, and Marshal look for how Cornel had gotten out of the jail house. Which of course the fact his father was on one of his cases made him twitch for so many other reasons but he wasn't going to go through with telling Alan that. He wasn't going to tell his father he didn't want him on the case partly because Alan was a city planner.

That was always helpful when trying to find a building's weak points right?

"Alright," Gary sighed. "You've made my life instantly more difficult than it needed to be this week." The professors smiled and let their shoulders rise and fall at the snarky comment that even Ian could tell was only partially serious.

Reynolds sat in a corner, her eyes watching them all closely, though they shone with confusion. It was expected she didn't understand what the hell was going through their heads at that moment since she hadn't been around long enough to do so but she could sense the slight ease of tension in their shoulders as they joked. She was tempted to start writing what she was seeing but she remained still. It had become apparent that at times with these people, it was best for her to simply sit and observe. She was finding she was getting more information about them that way than simply trying to explain that she knew all of their accomplishments and great deeds.

That she knew about the missing professor Charles Eppes, brother to Don Eppes, an agent and son to Alan Eppes, a 'mother hen' to rival all mother hens was something that would apparently have to wait to be told. Yes, she had heard the legends of the team she now sat with but she had heard the legends about the amazing professor of CalSci University's Math Department with far more interest than anything else. She had enjoyed hearing the tales of what was done to find criminals using mainly math. However, having transferred from a lower level of the Major Crimes Section of the FBI, she had only had the chance to meet Charlie in person once.

Her mind had been blown by one lecture and Charlie had been more than gracious when he'd met her at the dinner. She was still thanking her old boss for allowing her to be in the crowd of math and science geeks that was believed to have a math oriented hacker who had moved money out of multiple peoples' bank accounts while bouncing his signal off multiple signal lines. If he hadn't, she wouldn't have been able to meet the mathematician who'd narrowed the search down and given them a place to look.

Charlie had disappeared half a year later and it had hit the department hard when the cases started piling up on everyone's desks. She hadn't enjoyed it when the files began to tower over her head within the first week – wondering what was going on with the professor Eppes's consulting – when the first 8x10 fell before her. Of course, when there had been a call for fresh eyes to look at Charlie's case, she'd jumped on the chance only to be disappointed when she found the same thing everyone else before her had; nothing.

Then, the impossible happened. Ian Edgerton was called in on the Cornel case and suddenly, a door was opened and she was allowed to work it. Finding Cornel's old hideouts and contacts had been fun. She had impressed herself with finding the bar that was staked out and she was then tossed the name Carlos Valero which dragged in Lieutenant Gary Walker. As she watched, the greatest team she believed to exist began to grow and clamp down on the city again. Walker stating that the house guest sounded familiar to him only spurred her into the fire faster.

She wanted to see this case solved.

She believed that once this case was solved, something could be done on Charlie's case. That was almost too good to pass up so when her boss said she'd done enough work to actually be on the case, she'd snagged the chance – anything to swim with the big fish right?

"What do you guys think?" Nikki asked the group of professors. "Do you think he had a partner or more when he got out?"

"Actually…" Larry mumbled as he stared at the board skeptically. It was a strange expression to see on his face. "At this particular moment, I cannot conclude much of anything."

"Well, we have only gotten started so of course there's not much here yet," Millie countered casually as she waved her hands at the board.

"Right," Marshal stated as he stood. "I don't think it'll take us too long to find something," he added quickly, a small smile gracing his face. David and Colby looked at him gratefully.

"Take your time and get it right," Liz stated. "We want to catch this guy."

"Understood," Larry mumbled as he stared at the board. He grabbed a pad of paper and started to copy things down on it. He was in a zone that could not be reached. Alan was smiling at him as he helped Millie gather things up.

"I'll work on this as long as I have to though…unlike some people, I can't function without sleep," Marshal stated to Don. He sent a wry look at Alan who laughed.

"Charlie can't function without sleep either," the loving father stated happily. He gave a meaningful look at his other son. "No matter what he says right Don?"

Don scoffed and nodded, sending the same look back at his father. The agents chuckled too. Reynolds felt her stomach twist. The team was smiling – the team that lost so much within one night, was smiling and laughing. That had to be a good sign right? Reynolds wasn't completely superstitious but she did feel there were such things as good or bad feelings or signs. Charlie had been a touchy subject days ago and now they were able to talk about him? That had to be a good thing right? Even Ian seemed pleased.

So why was her stomach tying itself into knots?

* * *

**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alert doesn't tell me jack.**

**Please review. Thanks.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**This is a Stream of Consiousness chapter. If it makes no sense, I'm so sorry.**

* * *

"You want to do what?" Maria asked, horror lacing its way into her voice. Charlie sighed. He'd expected the reaction. What else could he expect when he said he wanted to go see Sheila's school? However, it did seem to be a bit intense considering as far as he knew, she hadn't become aware of any new developments in learning his past.

Then again, he had heard her and Sheila whispering – yelling softly really – about the equations he'd left on the table from the night before. They really might as well have been yelling thanks to the thin walls of the old house. He couldn't really help feeling that something had happened before he'd had that sudden burst of equations. Sheila had recognized something he'd written and then Sheila – whom he'd told about the officer stopping by – mentioned it and Maria started praying in Spanish.

He probably shouldn't have told Sheila about the officer but she'd been so enraptured by his work that she hadn't even noticed her saying she'd seen one of them before – at school no less. He'd even heard her call it the Eppes Convergence complete with the Penfield Variation when she was showing it to her mother. There had, naturally, been more praying once _that_ fact had been revealed. Of course, Maria had seemed far more worried that it had been Gary Walker whose name was mentioned and that the Lieutenant had seemed familiar – Charlie had said.

"I," he stated slowly, "want to see CalSci. As I was working last night, I felt that I was maybe a teacher or something and CalSci felt familiar."

"Are you sure it's not because Sheila goes there and you've heard it over and over from us for the past few months?" Maria asked, her voice soft.

It was early still – Maria couldn't sleep thanks to the news and Charlie had been up most of the night using the beaten up computer in his room to look up his equations – and both were speaking as softly as they could so as to avoid waking Sheila; even though both knew she slept like a ferret – completely dead to the world.

Charlie shook his head decisively. "No…I notice I woke up when you and Sheila were in the middle of finding that she'd be going to the university but the feeling I get about CalSci has nothing to do with that. I feel like I either taught or learned there – or had a friend there. I need to go there and see what I can."

"No," she hissed. He stared.

"What? Why?"

"Because I feel it'd be safer for you to stay here. You will stay in this house until I speak to this Gary Walker Sheila said you mentioned." She let out a huff. "Maybe he can help us out since you claim he's familiar."

"That-," he began only to be cut off.

"Enough."

The conversation had ended then and there. An hour or so later, Sheila came tumbling down the stairs, muttering about physics problems that she'd have to speak to Professor Fleinhardt about and that Professor Finch might be able to help her with something else and Professor Penfield was nice but he wasn't quite enthralled with him. Of course, as Maria was giving her advice, Charlie was thinking about the names she'd mentioned.

Memories flashed before his eyes.

_"You know," he said carefully to a friend, "this isn't the first love letter I've ever received." The friend gave him an interested look. He smiled and went on. "When I published my first article in the American Journal of Mathematics, I was invited to spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast in Santa Barbara."_

_"Did you go?" Larry – yes, that was his name – asked interested beyond belief._

_"Ah, I was fourteen," I admitted. Larry gave him an amazed look. He continued nervously. "My mother had to break the news to a very embarrassed female professor at Berkley."_

What about the other names? Finch? Penfield?

_"You've done some work there," Larry was saying._

_"What the hell in that son of a bitch doing here?" Charlie yelled causing his companions to blink in surprise. Later, he was asked why he didn't like the guy named Marshal Penfield being around. "The only keg party I ever threw," he was explaining, his tone annoyed as he went about his work in a cluttered office, "he stole the keg."_

That was the right Penfield he was sure. What about Finch?

_"This bull has problems!"_

That was right; the case on the guy who led a cult that was alright with inbreeding and marrying underage girls. Wait…Case? Why would he think of that word specifically? What was the supposed meaning for him to think that word when it came to that one phrase…and how had he connected what he did to it so easily?

_Oh yes_, he thought. _My research did say I not only made those equations but I might have also worked for the FBI as a consultant….Why do I suddenly feel like fish are stupid? And why did that make me think of lavender...and someone being a fan of my hair? _He rubbed his scar and waved at Sheila as she left.

"Charlie," Maria stated as soon as the door was closed. "I am going to speak to the officer you told Sheila about; stay here, the door stays locked."

"Yes ma'am," he sighed as she collected her purse and marched out. He locked every lock, knowing she and Sheila had all the right keys, and then sat down on the couch. His head was completely void of the numbers. Instead, it was filled with flashes of faces that he knew he knew it was just…the names weren't coming to him as easily. That alone frustrated him.

Not being able to leave the house annoyed him far more though. It hadn't bothered him when the numbers filled his head but now that they weren't there…he wanted to walk around outside and he wanted to get a conclusion on what his head was trying to tell him. From his research he had figured out he was a professor – at CalSci he added to himself as he remembered the night of reading old reports on himself – and that alone made him want to go and teach something. He guessed it was probably a good thing he hadn't told Maria that he'd searched the equations which led him to the common denominator; aka the name Charles Edward Eppes.

He paused in his thought line. Charles Edward Eppes sure looked a hell of a lot like him and the guy had apparently been missing a little over three months now. He'd been with Maria for about two of those months – maybe longer – and news of professors disappearing didn't exactly make headlines down in this area. He rose from the couch slowly and began pacing, the floor creaking under him as he moved. He craved an iPod in his hands but he had only the chorus of the damned wood planks under his feet.

He stopped mid-step and smiled as he remembered the perfectly good radio that was in Sheila's room that she only used when she had to – like when she was forced to clean her room from floor to ceiling and when she had to work on homework as soon as she got home – and she had said he could use it if he ever needed it after he'd said he liked working with music. He breezed up the steps and slipped into the cluttered room to move the boom box to his room. Pressing the power button he had a good guess what station would be on.

His hypothesis was confirmed when Skid Row's "18 and Life" blared at him. Strangely, he didn't mind the station – he'd heard it blaring before multiple times because Sheila was like him when it came to thought processes, she didn't stop until the line of thought was followed through with and it was easy for him to relate.

_Ricky was a young boy, he had a heart of stone._

_Lived 9 to 5 and worked his fingers to the bone._

_Just barely got out of school, came to the edge of town._

_Fought like a switchblade so no one could take him down._

_He had no money, oh no good at home._

_He walked the streets a soldier and he fought the world alone_

_And now it's_

_18 and life you got it_

_18 and life you know_

_Your crime is time and it's_

_18 and life to go!_

Somehow the song caused the numbers to flow easily. The number eighteen meant something but he felt like it wasn't complete yet. He muttered 'paper, pen' and began shuffling through his desk until he found what he was looking for. He scribbled the number 18 on the top of the paper and started tapping the pen on the paper, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. He sighed when his thoughts didn't clear up further. He glanced at the bookcase next to the desk to find Sheila's brother's old CDs.

_Oh I can work with those_, he thought with a smirk. The first one he picked up was a simple mix CD and he shrugged as he popped it into the player on the boom box. He sighed with relief as the numbers became clearer and his fingers tingled with excitement as he wrote them down. He didn't mind the techno music since it was obviously making his life so much easier; the numbers were flowing to his fingers easily now.

He stopped and glared at the damned numbers. He knew this problem. P vs. NP and he knew very damned well it was unsolvable – it had tried to ensnare him last night too but he'd somehow managed to slap it away. This time however, it was staying put.

_"Look," an older, slightly deeper voice pleaded, "please don't do this."_

_"Don't do what Don?" he yelled back. "Go ahead. Go ahead and try to tell me what it is that I'm doing. You don't even know what it is I'm doing." _

_He was at a chalk board, his face pale and his eyes panicking as he slammed his chalk against the board. There were boards all around him and he knew he was in a garage, one he knew well, and the boards all had numbers on them. The person next to him had the face he continually saw whenever he looked in the mirror. The person – Don? – looked worried about him. Some thing else had far more power over him though and he wanted to get it down._

_"Actually, I do. The thing is, I don't think you do."_

_"Okay," Larry mumbled, his eyes slightly wild as he watched, "I'm going to go contemplate the koi pond." As soon as he was gone, Don set in again._

_"Charlie, look, you helper us find these guys once before. You can do it again. Come on."_

_"Why, so you can get shot again?" He sounded dangerously close to freaking out at those words. Something told him it hadn't been the first time this person had been shot at but it scared him greatly to even think it._

_"No, buddy, look," Don sighed as he tried to reassure him. "Understand, I appreciate you care about me, but it's not going to happen."_

_Charlie knew better. "Statistically," he stated, his breath ragged, "you're dead now." He slammed his chalk against the newest board. "You understand what that means? A man aimed a gun at your head and fired. The fact that you survived is an anomaly, and it's unlikely to be the outcome of a second such encounter." He sounded tired and petrified. His hand smacked his chalk against the board. He somehow knew he was in shock but he couldn't remember why – yet. He was sure he'd figure it out sooner or later. Something told him that he'd basically attacked Larry earlier but then Don had shown up. The panic and sarcasm had hit him hard and he took it out on Don._

_"Listen to me," Don said, his tone losing its patience and beginning to plead at him – desperate to get him away from the boards. "We don't have many leads, okay? If you can help us predict when and if these guys are going to hit another bank, this is the only shot we got!"_

_"Please understand," Charlie begged as he reached over his head to write on a board, "sometimes I can't choose what I work on. I can't follow through on a line of thinking just because I want to, or – or because it's needed. I have to work on what's in my head." He gave Don a pleading look and turned back to his boards. "And right now, this is what's in my head."_

He ripped the paper away and crumpled it into a ball so he could toss it into the wastebasket next to the desk. He loathed that problem. He knew – he just knew – it had made his life very painful at one point and he wanted it away from his mind. The only good thing it seemed to have ever done was link a name with that face he always saw in the mirrors.

Don. He was familiar. More so than Gary Walker. Why?

He started again with the number 18 on his new sheet of paper, brow wrinkled at how he couldn't make sense of how he'd gotten to P vs. NP from 18. He tried to ignore it as he went back to the math that was still flowing with ease from his brain. Something about timing human movements and then weak points of a building…_Which building? Whose movements?_ He sighed and flopped onto the bed.

"I need to get to CalSci," he whispered to himself. Another face flashed before his eyes, a plain female face. Strangely he was able to put a name to it automatically. He wrote it down quickly.

_Melissa Reynolds._

"I have something else to search," he smiled.

* * *

**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alert doesn't tell me jack.**

**Please review. Thanks.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**This is a Stream of Consiousness chapter. If it makes no sense, I'm so sorry.**

* * *

Amita Ramanujan sat in the office, watching Marshal Penfield and Millie go through the equations and blueprints. She much preferred the sound of Charlie's staccato chalk movements to Marshal's slower and more…legato movements. She also didn't feel he was nearly as brilliant as Charlie was. Her heart clenched when she remembered she'd left him at the altar. She hated him a bit for being able to simply fall back into their old friendship so easily but now, she wanted that relationship more than anything.

She wondered if this was how he felt when she'd been taken in front of him. He'd proposed when he'd gotten her back. She'd said yes, his eyes lighting up happily. It didn't go through though, her own cold feet making her dance away from the altar. Looking back it had been the stupidest thing she could have done – she could have married his brilliance, they could have had more together than they ever had been. She sighed softly. She wanted Charlie back and she wanted him back badly.

Though, she doubted he'd be the same loveable Charlie she'd known.

It had been three days since Don and Ian had gotten them all onto the business of how Frank Cornel got free from prison and she couldn't really say they'd gotten very far in much of it. Alan could only give them so much from blueprints and none of them were really willing to go to an actual jail house just to run calculations – not without Charlie egging them into doing it, a large impish smile on his face.

She waited patiently – albeit barely – for Marshal and Millie to stop and stare at the boards for a moment before sharing a look, cursing, and doing something all over again. She'd watched them do it so many times she was about to be able to set her watch to them. She picked up the soft knocks at the door and allowed her head to turn to find Larry at the door. She smiled a little and he smiled back as he entered.

"Have we made any achievements as of yet?" he called quickly to Marshal and Millie. Both shook their heads. He hung his head. "I am sad to say that I myself have had no success. I do hope this will not continue on in the following days. Don and Ian did seem a tad bit on the urgent side of this."

"They did feel a little rushed didn't they?" Marshal asked casually. "I apologize though. Charles' brother still scares me a bit…It must be thanks to Charles dragging me to a warehouse with stolen technology and men with guns." He smiled wryly at the memory. "Oh good times."

"At least he's not after you any more for you going after his work," Millie grumbled in her own sarcastic way as she bustled over to them through the clutter and slight insanity that was Charlie's office. "There's a symmetry to this chaos," she muttered as she shook her head. "Of course Dr. Eppes, whatever you say Dr. Eppes."

Amita couldn't stop herself from smiling at the grousing Millie was muttering as she tripped past piles of books and papers. Even the slightly eccentric head of them all was a little perturbed by how much crap there was in the small space. Marshal had been too but then again, Larry's office was far worse in some respects.

"Is anyone else amenable to getting food?" Larry asked gently. Millie and Marshal looked at him with admiration – like he was an angel – and nodded ecstatically. He nodded and suggested the campus lunch areas. Marshal looked like he was about to drool and nodded dreamily. Amita wouldn't be surprised if he started muttering 'food' like a zombie. Millie and Larry looked about the same, Larry looking the best out of the three.

"Will you please join us Amita?" Marshal asked kindly. She shook her head sadly.

"I have papers to grade and lectures to edit," she replied. Millie and Larry gave her a look but she ignored the fact they knew that she wasn't even supposed to be there today – she had no classes scheduled and Millie had given her mandatory vacation. However, her life still revolved around the CalSci campus so she had just come like she did every day before only now, she had to hide out in an office. Not that Amita minded that prospect.

Her co-workers nodded in understanding and filed out slowly. She could feel Millie's dissatisfaction at her even being present at the building but then again, it was to be expected. She let her eyes fall back to the board and the blueprints. Her fingers itched to look at them and do her own set of figures. She wanted to help but she couldn't make herself do it.

Instead, she slipped out of the office and moved for her own space. She actually did have a few papers to grade and a lecture to work on – it always helped for her to have a genuine excuse – so she guessed she could get that taken care of. In the past few months, she'd begun to yearn for music playing in the background so she had moved a small CD/radio into her office along with a few CDs of her own. She popped one into the player and waited as the sound of classical music began to surround her.

She lost track of time, not noticing when she started working on her papers and other projects, when a soft knock reached her ears. Her head snapped up to find it was nearly six in the afternoon and Sheila Rodriguez standing at her door, eyes confused. Amita gaped at her and stumbled out of her chair and to the girl's side.

"Uh…Can I help you?" she asked a little flustered.

"I have a project and I need to use a good computer," Sheila stated calmly, a slight twinge of unease in the depths of her voice. "I'm lost beyond belief but my mother understands that I'll be late getting home anyway," she started waving a hand somewhat dismissively. "I'd like to get home tonight though…"

"No worries," Amita chuckled, her eyes beginning to light up a little bit. "I'll show you the way to the computer lab."

"Thanks," Sheila gushed.

The walk was quiet, Amita's eyes misting over again as they passed specific areas that held the most memories of Charlie for her – the courtyard, the globe that had been burned down twice, and even the lunch area. Sheila seemed to be able to pick up the fact that Amita was distancing herself but since she was unsure why, she was doing the safest thing; staying quiet. Of course, the computer lab wasn't completely empty when they managed to get there but there were open spaces – some all by themselves in the farther corners.

"Thank you," Sheila stated gratefully before bee lining it to an empty computer that was – Amita noticed – away from all the other students. Of course Amita was a bit surprised. CalSci was a tightly knit community and even though Sheila was somewhat new to it, there should have been someone there that would act like a big brother or big sister figure to help her out a little.

"Have you made any friends with you fellow students yet?" Amita asked, leaning against the table on Sheila's right. The young woman glanced at her warily – Amita chalked it up to her living situation – but returned her attention to the screen before her.

"No time," she mumbled as she typed. "I have a demanding commute to get here from my house and to my house from here. I don't want people from my neighborhood giving me crap when they see where I'm learning so I take the bus. I do homework and chores and school. That's my life…Why do you ask Professor?"

"Well usually there are older students who help out the new ones out with finding their way and what not," Amita shrugged. Sheila gave her skeptical look. "Wouldn't it make it a lot easier if you had a friend who could help you out with navigating this place at the least?"

"No thanks," Sheila muttered, her fingers flying over the keys. "In my neighborhood, those are the first people who get you into trouble."

"No offense," Amita sighed, her patience wearing thin. "This isn't your neighborhood."

"No offense, but even I use stereotypes," was the curt reply. Amita sighed. She should have expected that reaction but it still bit at her. She knew people used stereotypes because they tended to have a bit of truth to them and that was usually true when someone lived around so many of them as she did.

"CalSci isn't like your neighborhood Sheila," Amita stated. "The only stereotypes that matter here have to do with your brains and what you use them for." She looked at the girl pleadingly. "Please let me get you a mentor."

"I like finding my own way Professor. It's more fun and more satisfying." Her fingers flew over the keys as she spoke, each punch getting more and more deliberate as she went. It was like she was trying to restrain herself and was taking her feelings out on the keys rather than Amita.

"Alright," Amita sighed. She left the girl to her work. She could tell there was something Sheila wanted to talk about with someone but if the girl wasn't going to talk to her then she'd have to let Sheila figure things out for herself.

* * *

"Why is Sheila going to be late tonight?" Charlie asked carefully, like he was tiptoeing around a sensitive subject.

The past few days had been hell for him. His numbers were silent again and all he could do was look up names and hope he could get the correct faces matched. It didn't help that he was repeatedly waking up in a cold sweat every night from the same two dreams. He wasn't sure which one scared him more though. One of the dreams consisted of him in that garage again, Don yelling at him about 'Mom' and yelling how he wasn't doing what he should have been doing as a son. The other…Maria and Sheila had woken up to him screaming at least twice those few days. He woke up and then started muttering that he was sure he'd been injured.

"She has to work on a project and the research needs to be done on the computer," Maria stated quickly. "She called in time to tell me I'd only be cooking for two."

She slapped a plate before him and he stared warily at the loaded plate. He knew an extra helping when he saw it and it was on his plate. He glanced at Maria's plate and automatically recognized the extra half of potatoes, veggies, and meat on her plate that only served to remind him of his plate.

He kept his mouth shut though. He'd heard the story of the cold sparrow that was warmed up by cow crap, started singing, and was eaten by a cat. There were three morals to that story. First, someone who gets you into shit isn't exactly your enemy. Second, someone who gets you out of shit isn't exactly your friend. Three, sometimes it's better to just keep your mouth shut. He wasn't sure he wanted to think about the first two considering how much shit he was most likely in period but he knew when to shut the fuck up.

"It tastes great as usual Maria," he stated easily after a few bites. She smiled at him as she played with the potatoes. Charlie let his eyes slide over to the kitchen – not much of a feat – to find another serving worth of food. He closed his mouth over the meat he was eating and forced his eyes back to his plate.

"Thank you Charlie…Have you been catching up on your sleep any?"

He didn't answer. Maria wasn't expecting one though since she'd stuck around the house after the first screaming awake moment he had – he was sure she had something planned though since she kept glaring at the clock – to make sure he caught up on the sleep he was losing. Given, she wasn't feeling like he was catching up on much of anything. His research had gotten a few more hints on Charles Eppes and Reynolds – a few things about Don Eppes – but he wasn't sure what it all meant for _him_.

He was also sure that his memories were up to maybe 1997. Something about cancer kept bugging him. Something about a certain park bugged him too but he wasn't sure why. He sighed thinking back to what he'd read about himself – or at least what he'd read about _Charlie Eppes_. He still wasn't sure that he really was this person who helped the FBI and the NSA and god only knew who else. As far as he was concerned, Maria's place was all he'd ever had since… whatever it was that caused his memory to be completely blank had happened. None of it made any sense to him.

He really wanted to go to CalSci though. He was sure he'd get answers there. Maybe he'd go when Maria and Sheila were asleep? Who the hell would go to a school in the middle of the night anyway right? He chewed his lip as he began to think that maybe it was one of those schools that simply had over night courses that could be taken if someone had a part-time job or something like that.

"I see," she muttered. "Try to sleep in tomorrow alright?"

"I'll do what I can Maria," he lied. He wasn't going to try anything like that. He was going to do more research and see if he could get out of the house without injuring himself or being seen or heard. He had half a mind to just walk out in front of Maria but that would bring too many questions to mind.

Instead, he bolted down his food and returned to his room.

"Good night Charlie!" Maria called up.

_"Good night Charlie!" Margret Eppes called._ Charlie twitched.

"Good night," he mumbled before shutting the door.

* * *

Sheila slipped into her house late that night, her books tumbling from her arms as she juggled them, the door, her keys, and her bag. She sighed as soon as the last lock fell into place. Glancing about, she found her own dinner sitting next to the microwave with plastic wrap over it. She wasn't sure weather or not to be happy. The rest of the house was dark. She bolted down her food and shuffled off to bed. Passing Charlie's room she glanced in to find he was asleep.

"Night Charlie," she whispered.

* * *

**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alert doesn't tell me jack.**

**Please review. Thanks.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**This is a Stream of Consiousness chapter. If it makes no sense, I'm so sorry.**

* * *

There was not much more that could make Ian's day any harder. That's what he'd thought when he'd gotten up that day to an exhausted looking Don and a team with worried looks on their faces and a complete green horn cowering behind the files as if it would keep her safe from them. Of course, he'd been proved wrong before. Don, finally able to get back at him, took one look at Reynolds and then saw Ian at the door and said she was Ian's problem for the day. He would have been fine with it if only Don hadn't said something about checking in with Alan and then seeing if the professors had gotten anywhere.

The trip to the old Craftsman house had been somewhat uneventful considering that Alan was pretty much knee deep in blueprints and schematics. Ian had been leaning against the doorjamb as Reynolds began to speak _that _language with him. When he found that Alan would need whatever the professors had come up with, he'd sighed and said they'd check. It wasn't like they had anything else they had to do after all right?

However, the disappointed and embarrassed looks on their faces only made him growl with irritation. Reynolds stared at the board and asked what exactly they were figuring. Ian slid into a chair and listened as closely as he could to them. Reynolds had an eye for math stuff, he'd give her that but it wasn't like Charlie's mind for it. She could grasp things but she probably couldn't make it work for her like Charlie could.

Then again…Charlie was insanely brilliant where as Reynolds was probably only slightly above average intelligence. Not many people could compete with Charlie when it came to math.

"Is it seriously that time?" he asked suddenly when his eyes managed to claw their way to a clock face. It was one in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten since last night. Reynolds looked about ready to eat the papers around her.

"Oh for the love of…" Millie growled as she peered up at the clock through her glasses. "We're becoming like Charlie."

"May I suggest we head out for a bite?" Larry asked gently. Reynolds looked like she wanted to call him a god.

"I'm game for food," Ian muttered easily before his stomach could growl.

"There is a good place nearby," Marshal managed to add, his eyes pointed towards Reynolds. Ian tried to ignore the slight blush on his face considering he didn't really find the plain woman very attention grabbing but then again, maybe she was Marshal's type.

"Let's see if we can pull Amita out of her office as well," Ian stated. "She needs to eat too right? Let's at least try to get her to stretch her legs."

He could have sworn Millie wanted to hug him as tightly as possible. Of course all he got were smiles and glee filled nods as they marched out of the room. He'd give them all the credit they deserved when Millie and Marshal basically tried to yank Amita's arms out of their sockets to get her out of the room. Reynolds however was the one who muttered the correct words.

"I wonder what Charles would think if he saw you now."

Amita flew into a rage and shot herself across the room to chew the young agent out. There was a lot of 'How dare you suggest that?' and 'You've never even met him!' from Amita while Reynolds simply watched her in a bored manner. As Amita was about to trail into the '_you have no idea how much I love(d) him_' speech Ian could just sense was coming, Reynolds pulled out another one of her whoppers.

"I've met him before, he helped us on a case and even got us invites to the party where we made the sting," she stated. "I'm also interested in finding him for your information. Now…if you're done, we're hungry and you're feeding us."

Amita stared at her in amazement. Of course, Ian couldn't blame her. He was surprised as well considering he never would have thought that Reynolds had that much of a backbone in her. However, seeing it didn't necessarily make his day worse – hell, he was pleased with her.

"I'm still hungry," Ian muttered softly. "Who was it that said there was a good place around here?" He kicked away from the wall and sauntered away, Reynolds trailing after him quickly as if she suddenly understood what it was that she had just said. The professors followed, Amita in their number.

Ian watched as Larry and Marshal seemed to act as the shields to Reynolds as they left CalSci in relative companionship. Millie engaged Amita with riveting – Ian could only assume though since it was all math and it went over his head – conversation. He did however realize quickly that none of them mentioned Charlie again and the others seemed to shy away from mentioning the case. He couldn't say he was completely against it considering he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it either. He was sure that Charlie was more than just a simple taboo subject that was to never be mentioned.

He'd seen what doing so did to the people around him; people shut down.

"This place is pretty good," he muttered as he cleaned his plate.

It was so damned difficult to find decent biscuits and gravy but this place had one that was pretty good with all things considered. He wasn't completely pleased with it – the ones he'd gotten up in Walden, Colorado were a shit ton better but it was a Midwest dish. It was supposed to be comfort food but it acted just as well as a solid source of food in one's stomach.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Millie chuckled. "How's your food Melissa?"

"Wonderful thank you," Reynolds smiled as she worked away at her plate of salad. Ian wasn't sure if it was just a simple diet awareness of hers – eat healthy, stay healthy – or if she were vegan or vegetarian. Then again…there was chicken in that salad; he'd seen it and he didn't see her shoving it aside since she'd asked for it to be there.

"Good to know," Millie smiled gleefully. Her eyes burned with something then and she turned to Marshal. "You locked the office up didn't you?"

"Yeah I did," Marshal said as he nodded. "There was no reason to leave it open since none of us would have been there and the plans are all in that office after all. Larry watched me do it himself actually."

"Yes indeed," Larry chimed his attention mainly on his – Ian was still wondering how that worked in the restaurant – white food. "He locked it."

"Good," Ian muttered. "Last thing we need is for our work to become common knowledge around the school. It's not exactly easy to say that it needs to be kept as confidential as possible since we do have consultants on it – no offense."

"None taken," Amita stated. She'd calmed down as the group had sent into eating and talking. Reynolds even apologized to her. It was funny watching Amita and Reynolds glare at each other every so often though. Reynolds may not have been nearly as smart but she was still a spitfire in her own way. Ian had a feeling that Amita just didn't like the point the girl had made.

As they walked back to CalSci, Ian checked in with Don to find nothing had gone forward – like he was surprised. He was about to update Don on what they had – even if it wasn't much – when he ran into Reynolds' back.

"What the hell-?" he looked up to find the professors at a dead halt as well. They were in front of Charlie's office – the one Marshal had locked up. The door was cracked open. "Don, I'll call you back." He snapped his phone shut and slipped past them all, gun in hand. "Reynolds snap out of it and help me clear the room."

She nodded frantically and slipped out her piece silently as she shifted past the professors. He nudged the door open and slipped in, his eyes flying over the undisturbed papers and files. The only things that looked touched were…the board and the blueprints.

"Clear," Reynolds called.

"Clear," he affirmed, stowing his gun in its holster. "That post-it wasn't there when we left."

"None of those equations were," Reynolds added as the professors popped their heads in cautiously. They reminded Ian of those scenes in movies when the characters were piled one over the other and looking around a corner. If only the situation wasn't a bit desperate.

"How long were we gone?" Ian asked quickly as he looked over the blueprints. Larry looked like he was about to panic as he walked into the room, fists at his mouth.

"An hour? Maybe an hour and a half?" he mumbled. "Is anything missing?"

"Just your handwriting professor," Ian muttered as he glared at the board. His gaze fell on the post-it and he could feel them widen. "I need to call Don."

"Why?" Millie asked. "Nothing's missing right?"

"It's what was left that's freaking me out," Ian muttered as he dialed Don. "Don? Bring a fingerprint kit to the university…nothing's missing it's just…trust me, you need to see this."

He hung up and continued to stare at the post-it. He knew the handwriting that was on the board; he'd seen it before. However, he knew that Don would really want to see the post-it. It was something he'd seen Charlie do once before when he'd found something but Don wasn't around to get it. He'd hand something over with a note that said one thing only:

_For Donnie's eyes only._

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**Really seriously guys, the note at the very bottom (that will ask you to review) is not a joke. I like reading them! Just adding me to story alert doesn't tell me jack.**

**Please review. Thanks.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**FYI: This is an edit on the story. I'm fixing the slight F-up on the original chapter 14 which means that the original chapter 15 is going to be in its place and I'm going to make things a bit angsty. Please be patient.**

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Frank Cornel hadn't really planned on seeing the boys who'd gotten him out of jail but since they'd dropped in, he was being nice and poured them drinks.

Jake Creed was a skinny pale man with flaming red hair, a slight talent for technology, and a shitty attitude – to Frank's opinion. He wasn't exactly the kind of guy one would usually trust either. He'd been known to shoot his own men if he felt they were getting in the way.

Ted Drake was a little thicker than Jake and it was all muscle. Frank couldn't say if he was any good at fighting though since he was fairly sure that Ted sampled the steroids he sold. Frank had to admit that he didn't seem nearly as stupid as he could have been but then again, Frank didn't spend much time with him.

Then, there was the leader of the little group known as Jed Cornel, Frank's little brother. Where Frank was bald, Jed had a head of thick sandy blonde hair. Where Frank's arms were covered with sleeves of tattoos, Jed's skin was completely clean of inks and oils. Where Frank preferred to let his emotions lead him – hence why his kills were so gory – Jed let his mind lead him. If he killed someone, he was never linked to it; he always had a fall guy somewhere. Where Frank preferred to dress in sweats, jeans, baggy shirts, and tennis shoes, Jed dressed in suits and ties.

"Hello big bro," Jed smirked darkly. Frank sighed, annoyance ebbing over the brim. He hadn't wished to see his little brother. He hadn't even expected his brother to get his hands dirty in getting him out of jail. It was out of character to say the least but the fact that he'd shown up to say he'd used Frank's usual crew – people Jed had made a point of saying he disliked greatly.

"Good to see you," Frank gritted out. "Now, if you'd all be so fucking kind, leave!"

"That's not very nice," Jed muttered, feigning hurt. Jake and Ted glowered at Frank, like they weren't too pleased with how Frank had 'greeted' them. It wasn't like it was all that big a deal to him. He hadn't really liked either one of them to begin with anyway.

"Carlos doesn't need you three around," Frank muttered as he crossed the room.

"Carlos was the one we asked to get you a place," Jed sneered as he followed his brother. "Besides, Jake was the one who cut the power to the jail. Ted was the one who beat up all the guards. I was the one who acted like a lawyer to get access, dragging a certain asset with me so he could unlock the doors to just your cell. You were the one who took the opportunity to run on out of there. Jake and Ted made sure the car was ready for you, the asset in the trunk where it belonged." His eyes were dark as he finished, "You got out because of us."

"He still doesn't need you around."

"Carlos doesn't know what he needs," Jed laughed without smiling. "I however do and thanks to that, I'm the one promising him what he wants."

Frank couldn't help but glare as the other men chuckled and snickered darkly. He knew whose skirt Carlos was chasing – the only problem was she rarely wore a skirt to chase. Personally, he wanted no part of it since he knew that it wouldn't work and that Sheila wasn't going to let her schooling go to waste; nor was her mother.

"What he wants is unobtainable Jed," Frank growled.

"Power isn't unobtainable Frank. Nor is money or fame. Sheila may be a little difficult but I'm sure we can make her come around," he smirked. Frank hated that smirk. "However, she is female and as we both know, those have needs just like any other person."

"Her needs go to school only."

"Doubtful," Jed sneered. "Besides, Carlos wants the house guest dead right? There must be a reason for him to be so…riled."

"The fact you have to search for the word worries me."

"Oh please," Jed scoffed. "Everything about me worries you."

"There are reasons for that Jed. Tell me why you're here and I might let you leave without a black eye."

"Remember the asset I mentioned?" Jed asked smoothly like the threat hadn't meant anything to him. Frank had a feeling it hadn't. Jed never really cared if someone threatened to hit him, maim him, shoot him, or do any harm to his person. Jed used to do fight clubs until he got bored with them. He'd said something about it no longer being fun because he could beat all of the members without help. It was ridiculous. At least Frank had stuck to a career.

"What about him?" Frank asked carefully as if he were walking into a minefield. Jed smiled at him and picked up an old paper that was lying nearby. He tossed it to his elder brother who caught it with ease and precision.

"Read the article on page seven."

Frank rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Jed had a pull that made people bend to him. He rolled his eyes though when he spotted the months old story of a professor who disappeared. It wasn't even a very impressive professor; math was such a boring subject. He had no idea why the person had been missed so much – maybe it had something to do with the architect father and the FBI brother. He had a difficult time believing the comments the students and fellow teachers had given. _"He is a much loved part of the school community?"_ Right.

"So what?"

"He consults for his FBI brother. Apparently math is more useful than for the whole bullshit statistics. And let's face it; even statistics are useful after a fashion." Jed was smiling again. Frank really hated the smile on his brother's face.

"And?" Frank asked a bit warily.

"Think about it…he's had access to the jail before. He 'helped' us get you out."

"Right. He helped you willingly didn't he?"

"As willingly as possible when I'm concerned." And there was that smirk again. That god damned smirk and knowing gaze.

"Wonderful. What'd you do? Threaten his father?"

"More like the pretty little Hindi woman who almost married him and the spineless geek who taught and works with him."

"Wonderful," he repeated.

"It is isn't it?" And oh dear god he sounded gleeful. That was never a good sign.

"Why is it?"

"You know the guy Carlos wants out of the Rodriguez house?" Jed sounded almost pleasantly pleased. He stood and pointed at the blurred picture of the professor, tapping it a couple of times. "His name is Charles Edward Eppes."

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**Please Reveiw - unless you already have then please PM me.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.**

**There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.**

**Sorry this took so long to put up.**

* * *

"Maria," Charlie called gently from the front door.

In her arms was a brown shopping bag filled to the brim with produce and paper towels. She toed the door closed, blowing a stray strand or two of hair from her eyes. She'd struggled to not put down her produce, her back bothering her a bit that day, and had managed to dislodge some of her hair from her neat bun. It was a bit irritating to know that Charlie was probably engrossed into his projects hence why he hadn't come down to her ringing the bell.

The stairs creaked as Charlie skipped down them, his face split in a wide smile, his eyes clouded with thoughts that were running rampant through his head at that moment. She wasn't sure that she liked the mixture of emotions that choked the air in the room as he collected the bag from her arms, murmuring apologies and excuses as he went to take it to the kitchenette.

"What kept you?" she asked as she closed and locked the door. Her coffee colored eyes followed the young man as he began to stash the groceries, his eyes still unfocused. Once everything was put away – the breakable things her highest worry – she decided it was time to get to the bottom of things.

Of course, her daughter had far better timing.

Sheila entered, her bag slamming against eh creaking wood as she rushed to unlock and get and close and relock. Her face was flushed from what looked like exertion but her eyes were like that of a head lighted deer. When the door was completely slammed shut and locked, she spun to face her mother and house guest, leaning heavily against the door like her life depended on it.

"Mom…We have a problem."

* * *

News of the message at the CalSci campus spread like wildfire.

Don barely hit the doors before someone else from a completely different part of the building – who only really knew him thanks to his introducing them to Charlie – stopped and asked if 'the rumors were true'. He naturally asked what they'd meant and they amended themselves quickly; they asked had someone left _him_ a message in Charlie's _handwriting_ in Charlie's _office_?

He'd excused himself.

He hit the campus parking lot and there was already a horde of students hanging about the Mathematics buildings, faces set with worry, interest, fear, and excitement. Charlie was a rock star in his own way and this just proved it all over again to the elder brother as he had to push through the crowd. He had to take at least three camera phones and he bellowed at the students to get a move on and let them do their jobs.

He wasn't all that surprised that he had to duck under CRIME SCENE: DO NOT CROSS tape. He had a feeling that Ian carried a roll or seven in his truck for things just like this – he'd just never seen it before. Reynolds was snapping pictures while Colby collected prints and David and Nikki sat with the professors.

Millie looked like she wanted to flap her arms and start flying. She paced in tight formations, her hands spinning and weaving about as she alternated from biting her nails, talking, and tapping her chin or cheekbones. Larry was sitting, his back slumped a bit. His eyes were wider than usual and they followed his boss about slowly, like an echo. Marshal was sitting next to him, rivaling a deer in the headlights and a steel rod set at a perfect ninety degrees perpendicular from the ground.

_Oh great_, he thought. _I'm beginning to sound like my brother_.

Then he caught sight of Amita. She was sitting separately from the others, her eyes wide and confused. She had her hands covering her mouth which he could only imagine what sort of shape it was in. Her elbows were on her knees, one of her legs bouncing a bit. She would shake her head every few seconds, eyes clouding with emotion. He was tempted to go up to her, touch her shoulder, and tell her things would get better.

He couldn't though. He was busy with the fact that there had been some message in his brother's office. Someone had gotten into a _locked_ room where maps and documents on an important case were present. He wanted to take comfort in the fact that nothing had been taken but what was _left _was about as impressive and worrisome as a missing FBI issue gun.

He took a breath and strode into the room, snapping on a pair of gloves as he went. He schooled his features to look impassive as he glanced about the room. The first thought that popped to his mind was 'cluster fuck' which was quickly followed by 'possibly hidden evidence of a struggle or anything else'. Naturally however, another thought crossed his mind and it stood out over the previous too.

_It's like Charlie's playing hide and seek in his office._

Liz stepped up to him, her face screwed up with slight irritation. He was surprised that she looked more rested than she had in the last three days. Then again, possible leads were better than coffee; he'd _seen_ it with Charlie and his hunches, the way his bouncing off the walls became a little crazier or the way he looked like he was about to blow up but he wanted to lead his brother on a line because he had to be dramatic about it.

"If this is a joke," she hissed, "please allow me to hunt down whoever made it."

He tried to not smile. As much as he appreciated the idea that his friends were willing to risk their careers when it came to him or his family being treated like crap or worse. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. He wasn't going to allow them to lose their jobs over him; even if he did want his brother back.

"I agree with the hope that it's not a joke," Don said softly. He glanced towards his brother's office. It looked exactly the same as ever sure save for the maps and blueprints and files. Again, it was hard to believe that there was nothing missing from the piles. Ian was skimming through the pile again, his eyes narrowed at the mostly undisturbed papers. "I'll talk to you later alright?"

Liz followed his gaze and nodded in understanding. She disappeared through the door, taking the phones from his hands and murmuring that she'd try to talk to the students that were loitering around the door. He stepped past Reynolds and strode for Ian confidently. He wasn't about to show how much this may mean to him even though he could feel the slight spring in his steps.

_A lead. We have a lead! Good fucking _God_, we have a_ lead_!_

He wanted to pump his fists and howl with glee at the possibility. He had damn near done so when he'd been called by Ian, heard the breathy claim from the usually stoic hadn't really helped that Ian had sounded almost astonished, almost hopeful. Sure, Ian had sounded urgent but god damn it all, he had a right to!

The handwriting on the board was enough to throw Don back to when he was a kid and had walked into his brother's study area in the living room of the Craftsman house. Papers strewn about, his brother in the middle of it all like a gravitational thing. Charlie used to laugh at him when he said something about gravitational pull, spouting off numbers that blew past Don's head in seconds.

Numbers. Those meant a lot to his brother. It meant a bit to him as well but it was more of a goal – if I catch this many bad guys this year, I get a raise which means I can pay rent – rather than an interestingly shaped anchor that liked to morph and elude him. As much as he loved what numbers went into his job – even the overwhelming odds against him – he couldn't understand how his brother felt about them. It was like it was an eternal mistress who continuously came back to dance with him. When she felt stiffed – or when Charlie reverted into himself – she disappeared and then P vs. NP reared its ugly head.

Don hated that damned problem.

"What have we got?" he asked a bit breathlessly to Ian. He tried to ignore the looks his teammates gave him. He knew their eyes were reflecting his voice perfectly if not more clearly. Ian, thank god, sparred him.

"Your brother's handwriting saying that whatever's on that board is for your eyes only," Ian muttered as he pointed. His hand dropped to his side with an irritated sigh.

"What is it?"

"We left these in a certain pattern when we left," Ian stated, eyes flashing. "It's one that I know for a fact your brother wouldn't have left them in – it was somewhat organized!"

Don had to laugh at that one. His brother _did_ have a talent for spreading things out in a room, effectively turning it into a war zone or a clusterfuck. He glanced at the board and sighed at the numbers again. He couldn't understand them at all but he had a feeling they'd be helpful. He glances back to the blueprints.

"What position were they in?" he asked.

"They were scattered like this," Ian said, waving a hand over the disorganized pile.

It sure looked like something Charlie would have done. Don couldn't recount how many times he'd come across his files scattered when Charlie got his hands on them. They'd be halfway to the wind before Don ever found out Charlie had only gotten through them two hours before his visit and Charlie had already come up with half of the solving problem.

"It looks like he never left," Don mused softly, hoping that only Ian would hear him. Colby and David heard him though; they just went on about their business.

"I've called Walker," Ian growled. "He's going to step up his questioning. Maybe we'll get somewhere in this."

"The question is where it'll lead," Don sighed softly as he glanced over to Reynolds and Colby and David. They were filing things away and whispering findings to each other. He could already see his brother with them.

"Maybe," Ian suggested, "we'll be lead to the holy grail."


	16. Author's Note

So...No one reads my profile apparently. Actually. No. That's wrong. Hardly anyone reads it. Some people do. Others don't. Fine. I'm not innocent in that respect either. Whatever.

Here's the deal:

I'm an undergrad student majoring in biological sciences trying to become a veterinarian. I am also, apparently, minoring in Japanese. I am spending the majority of my summer(s) either at a clinic getting hands-on experience, on the back of a newly leased horse, or taking care of my two dogs - one of which has proven that two extracted teeth weren't enough; he has low-grade melanoma. The internet at my house is limited thanks to bad modems burning out before their year long contract expires. The internet at my school is limited beyond belief. I have two other RPs going with another friend who is about to be a junior in high school and has also set her sights on being a vet. She wants to go to the same school I am at currently and so I'm also giving her hints and tips to save her some pain and frustration.

My profile was updated to say I was going to update slowly when I got into college. I have no problem with being asked to update but in all honesty, I have no idea where this story is going anymore and am trying to let things figure themselves out. However, I've also prioritized schooling over fanfiction. Sorry but...things are going to be stupidly slow if not glacially slow. I apologize but sometimes, it doesn't really matter how much I love reviews. I'd prefer to get my shit straight before just going in blind and screwing everything up.

Thanks.


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